


Paint You By Numbers

by shrdmdnssftw



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-12 16:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrdmdnssftw/pseuds/shrdmdnssftw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written for the prompt <i>Louis didn't know he could get pregnant and ends up getting impregnated by some guy he doesn't even remember the face of the next morning. Harry is there for him. They fall in love.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Paint You By Numbers

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally finished. Thank you so much to everyone who read it over on the meme, and to those who got me to keep on writing! There's an awful lot of handwaving when it comes to tour dates, biology and facts in general, so please suspend some of your disbelief.
> 
> Any mistakes and/or plot inconsistencies are my fault, but please message me if you spot any. :)
> 
> (This can also be found on [LJ](http://shrdmdnssftw.livejournal.com/14233.html))

There’s an alarm blaring next to Louis’ ear and it is way too bloody early for this. He rolls over with a groan, slaps his hand against his bedside table in an attempt to shut off the noise.

He’s got the mother of all headaches and the world tilts worryingly when he tries to stand up. Staggering his way into his en suite bathroom, Louis leans over the sink to look in the mirror. It feels like he’s been hit by a freight train, every muscle aching like it’s trying to fall off of his body, his face similarly worn down. He’s grateful for the sink in front of him when the movement makes his stomach lurch for real, and he throws up into the porcelain basin.

It’s gross, he thinks, that drinking has taken this much out of him. He rinses out the sink and then his mouth, and decides that it would probably be a good time to have a quick shower. Slouching out of his loose shirt and boxer shorts, Louis tries to remember when he got changed into sleep clothes. After a good minute of staring blankly into the stream of water in front of him, he figures that it’ll come to him eventually. Shaking off the thought, he steps inside the shower.

The hot water pounds down on his back and it’s just the right amount of pressure, pushing his muscles back into place and making his skin tinge pink. He reaches out to grab his body wash and clean off the remnants of the night before. Louis swears he never used to be a lightweight, but it must be his age (ha, _ha_ ) getting to him. Bending over to clean his toes (and Louis might be a _little_ overenthusiastic about showers), a vaguely familiar twinge has him blushing and suddenly he remembers a lot more about what happened last night.

He takes a few minutes to rinse off and relax, finally shutting off the water and groping for a towel. Louis dries himself off, and runs a quick hand over the side of his face, assessing whether or not he’ll have to shave yet.

The stubble’s been working for him recently, so Louis decides to forgo the razor this morning and instead picks up his toothbrush.

He can faintly hear the sounds of Harry waking up in the bedroom next door - the thud of his feet hitting the floor and the creaky door that Harry’s been promising to get fixed for a month now. He smiles a little, because he's pretty sure Harry will get started on breakfast before anything else.

Sure enough, Louis finishes up in the bathroom, pulls on a pair of sweats and heads to the kitchen to find Harry standing in front of the stove, eggs already frying. There’s a glass of water sitting on the counter, two paracetamols sitting beside it, and Louis’ heart swells with affection for his roommate. Ruffling Harry’s hair as he passes, Louis swallows down the tablets and drinks the water.

“Mornin’,” says Harry, and Louis grunts in response and hops onto the counter. He’s never understood how easily Harry wakes up, and says so.

“Well, unlike _someone_ , I managed to get in at a decent hour last night,” Harry replies with a wink.

“What about that girl though? The one at the club? She seemed pretty cosy next to you.”

Harry smiles at this, and flips the eggs to cook them easy over. “Ah, Louis, you know that a gentleman should never kiss and tell.”

“Which is why you won't mind me asking after her,” says Louis, sticking his tongue out. Harry slides the eggs onto a plate then hits Louis with the spatula.

“Shove over,” Harry says, reaching between Louis' swinging legs to open the cutlery drawer. “ _Lucy_ , actually, came over to have some coffee, and then went home. She has uni this morning.”

Louis waggles his eyebrows at “coffee” and jumps off the countertop to follow Harry into their living-cum-dining room.

“Hey, at least I recall her name,” says Harry as he sets down the plate and passes Louis a fork. “I bet you don't even remember his face.”

“Oi, I do,” Louis says, managing to spit tiny chunks of egg as he speaks. “He has um... dark hair. I think. Curls. Bloody fit, and brilliant hands, _that_ I remember.”

“No! You didn't sleep with me Louis, we've been over this,” and Harry pulls their usual joke. “Was probably Liam. You'll have to apologise for not letting him stay the night.”

“Shut up, you tosser. Christian, I think his name was,” and Harry waggles his eyebrows at _that_.

“No wonder you were saying _oh God_ so many times last night.”

Louis leans across the table to flick at Harry’s earlobe and snags a bite from Harry’s fork on the return journey. Harry retaliates by grabbing Louis’ fork and eating the whole bit of egg sitting upon it. They both laugh, and Louis’ hangover seems to have almost disappeared.

-

Louis resigns himself to not go out anymore when his nausea returns later in the day. They’ve been watching movies and Harry tilts the bowl of popcorn towards Louis in an inviting manner, but it only serves to make Louis remember the bitter taste of vomit that he swear he brushed out that morning.

He scrambles out of their little spooning position and rushes to the bathroom to vomit again.

“You alright mate?” calls Harry from the living room.

“Yeah, no, I'll be fine,” replies Louis, and he rinses out the taste once more. “Just remind me not to go out for a while, okay?”

He can hear Harry's laughter carrying throughout the flat, and calls out, “I’m serious!” before heading back to watch the movie.

“I feel like shit,” he groans and Harry pulls him back into a hug. Louis loves that they're like this, the kind of friends that are comfortable no matter the situation.

Of course, that's when Harry decides to poke him in the side and tell him to stop complaining. Louis just grabs the remote and turns the volume up louder.

-

The management has actually been glad for Louis’ swearing off of partying, because Harry had to be a git and _listen to Louis_ when he said he didn’t want to party. Instead, the boys have been doing some subtle, family-friendly publicity – heading out to the cinemas one day, going to a park the next.

“I miss beer,” he laments, resting his head on Niall's shoulder. “It’s been like, four months since we’ve been out.”

“It’s only been a month, you crybaby. And _you_ miss beer? Because of your silly little pact, I’m not even allowed to be seen slightly tipsy. They've really been trying to propagate that clean-cut image since we went to the US.”

Niall has a point, and Louis wishes he could be sorry. Instead, he just leans more weight on Niall and plucks at the hem of his jumper.

“Can’t we like, maybe, just sneak out? ‘S not like they’d know.”

But of course that’s when Harry walks in and shouts, “No!” dramatically running across the room to tackle Louis onto the couch and, subsequently, onto Niall.

“Don’t be such a terrible influence, Tomlinson! We swore you would put a stop to your partying days!”

“You're a dick, okay. Just ‘cause you can still go out on the town,” Louis replies. It's true though.

“’m just really good at being subtle,” Harry says as he climbs up off Louis and Niall. He then high-fives Zayn, who came through the door after, hair mussed in a way that shouts “I went to a club and you didn't!”

Louis hrmphs at Harry then gets up to throw the little unpopped kernels into the bin. His movie nights with Niall mean that he’s seen every horror movie to exist since 1980, and that he's eaten his own approximate weight in popcorn.

Apparently it’s enough to make him sick, because when Louis goes to wash the bowl, the overwhelming scent of butter and salt makes him feel like upchucking. He makes a little retching sound, and drops the bowl into the sink, doubling over his stomach.

Harry wanders in to the kitchen in time to see Louis buckle under another wave of nausea.

“’S matter?” he says, rushing over to throw Louis’ arm over his shoulder and try to get him to stay standing. “You want to go out and you're feeling like this?”

“Was fine until a moment ago,” Louis retorts. “Must’ve been bad popcorn. Remember that time a few weeks back? We had popcorn too. Think I might be allergic or something.”

Harry tsks and asks, “You okay to walk?”

Louis nods, and then quickly changes his mind when the movement makes his stomach roil.

“’M gonna-” and he cuts off there, rushing over to the sink to empty out his stomach. He feels marginally better after that, especially when Harry passes him a glass of water.

“You need sleep,” he says in that low, don’t-you-dare-disagree voice. “C’mon, I’ll get you set up. Don’t want you coming down with anything.”

Louis just lets Harry support his body again, and they slowly make their way to Louis’ room. Collapsing on the bed, Louis has already forgotten about any idea of alcohol, and focuses instead on the bucket Harry produces from nowhere.

He rolls over and tries not to think about how much food poisoning sucks. It's a long night.

-

He gets over his bout of food poisoning and swears off popcorn too. Niall calls him a party pooper, and Liam commends him on his commitment to the cause (whatever that means). Zayn doesn't really seem to have much of an opinion on it. Louis likes this about him.

From inside his room, Louis can hear Liam, Zayn and Harry talking in the lounge about him. He reckons they’re trying to be subtle, but while Niall is meant to be distracting him by sorting out his clothes for next week’s four day UK tour, Louis’ got his ear listening out for the others.

Sure, he’s been sick a little lately, but it’s not enough to warrant a freaking intervention or whatever is going on between the other three. It’s probably just an extended cold, which is shitty before tour, but it’s not like he has many solos to sing from their first record anyway.

“Louis, are you listening? Did you wanna pack this shirt?” and of course Niall has to be holding his favourite raglan tee which started getting a little tight lately.

“Um, no, I’ll be right,” he replies and dammit, Harry, because Louis can hear his supposed friend tattling to Liam about how Louis’ been throwing up every other day, and has a temperature.

“Seriously, you okay mate? You seem kind of lost there,” and then Niall loses Louis further into his head, because Louis swears he just heard Zayn suggest the most absurd idea that he’s ever heard ever, and that’s not even-

He hears Harry makes a noise of agreement and Louis can’t take it anymore. Abandoning Niall to the piles of clothes covering his bed, Louis bursts out into the living room.

Comically, all three heads turn at once to look at Louis, and he would laugh if he wasn’t freaking the fuck out.

“Li,” he turns to the only one of the three he can seem to trust right now and pleads with his eyes. “Li, you’ve got to tell me I didn’t just hear what I thought I did.”

And Liam opens his mouth, says, “Louis, you should probably sit down for this,” and places his hand on Louis’ shoulder.

Louis tries not to faint, he really does, but then he remembers what Zayn said about not seeing these symptoms since he visited his mate’s boyfriend Clint and-

-

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

Louis is staring up at Liam, because they all like to have a joke, but Liam’s not usually the one to take it too far.

“There’s no way I’m pregnant! That just doesn’t happen! Not to me, at least.” And Louis’ starting to panic now, looking at Liam with pleading eyes, like it’ll make him take back what he’s said.

“Louis, you knew this was a possibility,” says Liam reasonably, but that’s exactly the opposite of what he wants to hear right now.

“Yeah, didn’t your cousin Joseph get pregnant?” chimes in Niall, and Louis shoots up into a sitting position to glare at the younger boy.

“It was Jo,” he says through gritted teeth, “and _she_ had her husband when she found out, at least.”

Liam pushes him back so he’s lying down on the couch and Niall flushes, mumbles out a “sorry”.

“The main thing, though, is what do we do now?” And of course Zayn is the voice of reason in all of this, because Liam’s off his bloody rocker.

“I’m not pregnant, there’s no way, so there’s nothing _to_ do,” but Louis’ just being indignant now, because it’s starting to add up in his head. The lethargy, the way his stomach is getting bigger despite cutting back on junk food, the vomiting even though he hasn’t been out since _that_ night.

And fuck. Because of course, it’s only now that Louis realises. He was so fucking pissed that night that he had to forget a condom. Bloody Christian and his bloody brilliant hands. Bloody genetics.

“I suggest we buy some baby booties,” Harry says, and Louis. He’s more than enough weirded out here, but the thought of miniature clothes, tiny clothes for his _baby_ is suddenly enough to break the tension, and Louis lets out a laugh.

Harry looks at him with a twinkle in his eye, the intent of his words coming through and Louis’ glad for the first time since he walked into the living room that short while ago. When Harry joins in laughing, something clicks in his mind, and Louis thinks that he has the best mate ever.

-

Management, of course, is scarily efficient once the boys ‘fess up. Louis is worried for the shortest moment that he’ll have to leave the group, but then Simon calls in to say congratulations and it’s simultaneously the most surreal and heart-warming experience of his week.

A campaign is started by management to keep it under wraps while they can. Louis is bought a whole new wardrobe of loose pullovers and less tight jeans and the other boys’ style changes slightly too.

“To throw them off the scent,” Niall nods, and Louis tells him not to be a doofus. Sandra, their stylist for the mini-tour, is a little annoyed since she apparently had it all coordinated _months_ ago, but smiles softly at Louis as she passes him another sweater to try on.

“My brother, too,” she says, and Louis feels like he’s been let in on the nicest kind of secret.

On stage, Louis doesn’t feel much different, but he’s always got a bottle of water on hand now, Liam fussing over him and making sure he doesn’t get dehydrated. Zayn is the one in charge of distracting the audience when Louis needs to rush off to pee, and the other boy takes great delight in mocking Louis’ accent while he’s offstage.

He’s glad it’s a short tour, but Harry reminds him that they’ve got the album promotion after in January and it’ll be nearing Christmas soon, so there’s more work to come.

In a way, Harry’s been Louis most silent support. He tries not to show it in front of Niall, who’s bursting with excitement, or Liam, who’s bursting with suddenly-attained pregnancy knowledge, but Louis gets scared. Sometimes he’ll sit in his room and have little panic attacks because there will be a baby coming out of him in seven to eight months. A real live, actual, breathing, crying baby and that’s a lot to cope with.

Whenever he starts breathing too quickly though, Harry seems to sense the distress and appears out of nowhere, hand a comforting pressure on his back. Once, Harry asked if Louis wanted to find Christian. He just shook his head, no. Louis figures there’s too much weirdness in the situation already, without finding the baby-daddy. Now, he just stands there and makes sure Louis is still okay with this. Most of the time, his band makes him feel like he is.

-

Louis has been watching Spongebob Squarepants for maybe three hours when Harry walks in with a _look_ on his face. Humming around the spoon he has in his mouth, Louis looks up innocently from his place on the couch, tub of ice cream in his lap.

“Louis,” Harry warns, and he has his hands on his hips like it’s even somewhat intimidating. “Have you even left the couch all day?”

Louis sticks the spoon back into tub, and nods. “Yep, me and Nialler went out.”

“It doesn't count if it’s only going to Liam’s for food.”

Louis does some shifty eyes at this, and Harry groans.

“Get up! Up, up, up!” and he’s hitting Louis with the rolled up newspaper he’s carrying, getting him to move.

“But _Spongebob_!” and Louis swears he wasn’t emotionally five years old before this all started.

“But _showers_ ,” says Harry. “Showers and nice clothes because management’s called for a meeting at half three.”

Louis has a feeling he knows what it’ll be about, but doesn’t mention it to Harry. Instead he puts the ice cream onto the table and drags himself back into his room to clean up. It seems like it takes twice as much effort to do anything now, and Louis sorts through his new outfit sets to find a worn, old sweater from before this all started. He knows that it falls down over his slightly distended stomach. The doctor management’s been sending him to said that men often show earlier than women, since their bodies weren’t quite as well formatted for pregnancies.

As he steps into the shower, wetting his hair and closes his eyes under the stream, Louis thinks this might be the time they tell the fans. At eleven weeks, he can feel the bump in his belly and runs his hands over it in the shower.

He’s – it’s not a maternal thing, because there’s no bloody way that Louis’ going all mushy. But he’s got a good feeling about this, in spite of the morning sickness and fatigue persisting. Harry’s been more than willing to hold his bangs back at any hour of the day, or massage Louis’ feet, or bring him his favourite triple chocolate ice cream from the shop.

Yeah, Louis’ got an okay feeling about this, and as he scrubs his body clean under the spray of water, he thinks about how _exactly_ they’re gonna tell the millions of screaming girls across the globe that, yes, Louis Tomlinson is now pregnant.

-

Zayn pulls Louis into his side as they walk up to the large building. He’s probably been the most silent about this situation, bobbing along in the wake of Louis’ pregnancy. Louis worries that Zayn’s weirded out, but Zayn gives him a squeeze around the shoulders and asks him how he’s faring. Louis gulps, says, “I swear this place didn’t use to be so intimidating.”

“It’s the hormones, love,” Zayn replies with a chuckle. “That, or you’re just being a wuss.”

And with that they enter the building. Louis thinks he’s doing okay, nerves-wise, until he realises that he’s grabbed Harry’s and Zayn’s hands and has both boys in a vice-grip.

Instead of wincing in pain, Harry smiles at him. Up ahead, Liam’s chattering away to Niall about how they’ll be performing a small Christmas gig and how the album’s mastering is almost finished. Louis is glad for the white noise as they walk into Paul’s office. He’s forever grateful that the management decided to make Paul the middleman, since all the boys get along with him, more so than anyone else at Syco.

“Boys,” he says as they file in. “It’s good to see you again. You’re all well, I hope?”

It’s surprisingly impersonal for Paul, but they all manage a “yes, yep, just peachy” before he soldiers on.

“Now you know I hate these things, but we need to discuss Louis’ condition.”

Louis makes a face at the phrasing, because it’s clearly _so wrong_ for a man to be pregnant. He’s been researching since this whole... whatever started, and Louis knows that there’s been a good seven or so cases in the last five years alone. It’s enough that it shouldn’t be new or fantastical.

“What about it then?” and Harry’s the one to speak up for Louis, of course he is. “I’m supposing you say we need to keep it under wraps until the album comes out?”

“Actually, no,” Paul replies. “We’ve been talking with the PR department, and it seems that with your demographic, the simplest statement is always best.”

Liam nods at this, but Louis is still worried. If they were going to tell the whole truth, why doesn’t Paul just say so? He turns to Niall, Zayn and Harry to see their expressions and the former two are blank. Harry has a contemplative face on, so Louis reaches over and squeezes his hand. Harry’s face clears and he gives a smile to Louis before turning back to Paul. Neither of them let go.

“We want the news to be out by Friday. Syco is more than happy to speak in support of your, ahem, condition,” and when Louis makes eye-contact with Paul, he’s quick to affirm they are “their words, not mine.”

“But, in light of recent events, we also think it important to portray a consistent image. Louis, I'm speaking of course about your sexuality. Though the majority of the fans are happy to hear that you're bisexual, PR feels that you being without a long-term partner presents a social discordance.”

Scrunching his nose up in confusion, Louis rests his free hand on his stomach. “A social discordance? What’s that even meant to mean?”

“In short,” Harry says, words a little bitten off, “being gay is okay, pregnant too, well that’s swell. But the moment you’re a single parent.”

“Dude, don’t get pissed,” Niall says, and Louis’ inclined to agree. Oftentimes, getting angry is more trouble than it’s worth.

It’s then that Zayn speaks up, though, says, “I’m with Harry here. There’s nothing wrong with being single. And besides, you’ve got us.”

Louis smiles at that, and the rest of the boys echo Zayn’s sentiment.

“I’m sorry that you feel that way, guys,” interrupts Paul and the moment is broken. “On the positive side, Syco thinks along the same lines as you lot, and appreciates how close you are. Harry, I know this may be a difficult and confusing decision for you, but we’ll need your input here.”

At this, Harry looks up with possibly the most bemused face Louis has seen in a while, and it's enough to slightly ease the tense office atmosphere.

“What’s it got to do with me?” Harry asks and Louis can almost see where this is going but there’s no way, no way in hell.

“Harry, if you’re okay with it, well,” Paul says. “Syco would like you to be Louis’ boyfriend.”

-

They make it back to the complex before six o’clock, Liam, Zayn and Niall retiring to their own flats now that they’ve got the story straight.

Louis’ still running it over in his mind, even as he walks through the door to their flat. And suddenly it all seems a bit convenient really, that he and Harry live together, are practically attached at the hip.

When Paul brought up the idea, Harry had– well, he’d not reacted badly at least. All five had been surprised into a kind of silence, Paul outlining how PR would say Harry and Louis had been dating since early September but had wanted to keep it a private affair. However, in the spirit of “sharing” and “family” during the holidays, the boys would have an exciting announcement in regards to adding to the One Direction family.

Louis thought it all a little cliché, but his heart still caught in his throat at the thought of telling his mum the lie. She’d known that he’s pregnant, of course – it wasn’t exactly something he could have hidden from her. But saying that the baby was Harry’s. It left him a little antsy.

Harry himself has been scarily silent since nodding his agreement in Paul’s office. Louis follows him into the kitchen and places a hand on his shoulder, Harry looking out at the view.

“You’re– you’re alright with this, yeah?” Louis asks, and Harry turns to make eye-contact, his expression unreadable.

“Because you know I don’t mind if you don’t do this. It’s a really big ask.”

Harry is silent for a beat, but then he speaks.

“I’m just. Mulling it over. It’s a lot to take in.”

Louis nods, waiting for Harry to tell him that it’s actually a bit too much for him and he wants out, but–

“But you're my best mate and I know it’s already gonna be hard for you. If this makes things easier– if the fans are more likely not to be shitheads when I’m with you, then that’s more than okay.”

And they both smile a little at that.

“Besides,” Harry continues, “we’re pretty much co-dependent idiots anyway.”

Louis shouts an indignant _oi!_ because as he says, “I’m pretty sure I can live on my own.”

Harry’s moved away from the window sill now, and is rummaging in the pantry.

“So I guess you won’t be needing these, since they’re technically mine, and you’re so independent,” says Harry, waving a packet of Louis’ current favourite salt and vinegar crisps in the air.

“Not what I meant, you tosser!” shouts Louis, reaching up to grab the pack and revealing a little slither of his belly.

At the sight, Harry exhales a little, _oh_ , and has the strangest smile forming.

Louis takes advantage of his distraction and steals back the crisps, running into the lounge and cackling madly all the while.

-

It’s almost bloody Christmas and Louis is glad his morning sickness has finally stopped. For one, it means Niall’s happy to eat with him again; certain that the idea of vomiting won’t put him off his food. For another, it means that his mouth doesn’t constantly feel disgusting, no matter the contents of his bathroom sink.

He’s looking forward to heading out on Christmas Eve with his family, since he hasn’t seen his mum or the girls for about a month now. The only thing is that Harry will have to come along.

Louis sits up in bed, and runs a hand through his bed hair with a sigh. It's not that he doesn't want Harry to go, because the younger boy would normally tag along in any case. But it seems unfair to Louis. Ever since the announcement earlier that month, Harry’s been running interference with the fans. There’s been surprisingly little backlash, although Louis was quick to ignore the "unnatural" or "faggot" comments that sifted through. They’ve been out a few times too, as a group and the two of them. Every now and again there’s a call from Syco reminding them to go on a date, but the truth of the matter is, their relationship is already so– Louis thinks maybe Harry is right in saying co-dependent. He’s pretty sure that #knewit was trending on the Saturday following, but Liam’s not let him spend too much time on the internet lately. Says it’s good to expose the baby to other things as well.

Louis doesn’t bring up the little lullabies that he’s been humming to the baby at night, but he listens to Liam and goes out for some air with Harry anyway. Therein lies Louis’ main problem. He’s unsure if it’s just his pregnancy hormones or if it’s the weird cocktail of special drugs the doctor has him on to help his body cope, but Louis can’t help feeling guilty about how much time Harry’s been wasting on him. There’s not a day that Harry doesn’t spend with Louis, or doing something for him, whether it be taking him out to buy new clothes (because he’s really starting to show now) or running off with Niall to buy the latest copy of Louis’ favourite music mag. Part of Louis wonders if Harry’d even do it if it weren’t for Syco’s asking, but then he remembers that this is Harry, who would walk the Earth for _anyone_ in the band, Louis included.

It’s not like the other boys are slacking off either. When Louis hops out of bed and checks his phone, Zayn’s texted, asking if he needs company at his prenatal checkup and Louis smiles at that. Zayn's given up smoking, “for good, this time. Don't want baby Tommo to grow up with same vices as me.”

Him and Liam have been rotating taking Louis to his prenatal appointments, since apparently Doctor Rogers is too intimidating for Niall to see twice a month. The frequency of his visits is related to Louis’ sex, Dr Rogers explains, and also because his frame is quite small for a pregnant man. Louis slips on the comfiest pair of trousers he can still look decent in and grabs one of the many, many slouchy pullovers that populate his wardrobe now. Sending a quick, “Y. C u soon.” to Zayn, he splashes water over his face and checks the time.

Eleven thirty means he still has an hour before they have to go, which is enough time to convince Liam to take him out for lunch. Harry and Niall are currently out, presumably trying to buy food that Louis won’t steal. He’s not had many cravings, apart from just want to eat _more_.

Walking across the hall, he raps his knuckles against Liam’s door, and waits for it to open. He probably should have called first, but Liam’s promised him that Louis can pop over, “any time, really. We don’t hang out often enough as is, any more.”

To his surprise, it’s Danielle who opens the door, smiling at Louis like they haven’t seen each other in months. When Louis thinks about it, he’s actually not seen Liam’s girlfriend since before the news broke, and so when she pulls him into a hug, saying a warm _hello_ into his ear, he hugs her back.

“Look at you,” she says, pulling back enough to make eye contact with Louis. “You’re all– ” she waves a hand around, “glowy.”

Louis almost blushes at that, but the rumbling in his tummy reminds him why he’s here.

“Thanks, Dani. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Louis asks. He’s a tad embarrassed now at his sudden appearance at Liam’s place.

“Not at all, Lou. Li and I were just watching a movie.” From the couch, Liam looks up to see who’s at the door. He gives a little wave, which Louis returns.

“Oh, okay. ‘Cause I was just wondering if Liam wanted to go out for lunch, but if you’re busy then I’ll just go and bother Zayn, and we’ll grab a quick bite before my appointment.”

Louis feels a bit like he’s rambling, but Danielle still has a smile resting on her lips.

“Nonsense, we need to catch up. We haven’t seen each other in ages, and Liam can always pause the film.”

Louis smiles at that, grateful that he has such good friends. Danielle pulls him into the living room, closes the door and instructs him to sit down for a bit while she fetches her purse.

Liam’s similarly made to move, but only to put on a pair of jeans instead of the sweats he’s currently sporting. Danielle pulls on one of Liam’s short curls to get him going, smacking his arse as he walks past into the bedroom.

Harry often smacks Louis’ arse too, but somehow Louis thinks it’s not with the same intent as Dani to Liam. Louis kind of wishes it was.

Before he has too long to think over that statement, though, Danielle is standing in front of Louis, hair tied up now in a messy ponytail and a large handbag over her shoulder.

“Ready to go?” she asks, slipping on a pair of over-large sunglasses and holding out a hand for Louis to grab.

He nods, and when she doesn’t let go of his hand after helping him stand up, Louis is so, so glad he has friends like these.

-

They end up eating at a small cafe that Danielle knows, a few streets away from the flat complex. The name of the shop is kind of cliché, but she swears by The Daily Grind’s coffee.

Of course, as soon as Louis tries to order a cappucino, Liam interjects with a “decaf!” and he almost groans. In all seriousness, Louis knows the caffeine isn’t good for the baby, but he’s been living clean for almost three months now and it’s driving him crazy. As it is, he just hmphs a little grumpily and lets Liam ruffle his hair in response.

“So, how’re you doing? Do you feel any different?” Danielle asks, and Louis’ been asked this before, the question repeated over and over, but somehow, it feels like Danielle actually means it.

“If by different, you mean fatter, then yes,” Louis replies and pets his stomach. “I’ve heard that I’ve gained 10 pounds since this all began,” he whispers conspiratorially to Danielle.

“Shush you,” Liam says and it’s a little fond and a little exasperated. “He’s been complaining about the gossip rags for the past fortnight.”

“Oi, have not. It’s not complaining, it’s making a commentary. Like they’ve been making a commentary on my supposedly fat arse.”

Danielle laughs at that, and Louis has to join in, because it’s not like _that’s_ the thing about him that’s been catching the magazines’ eyes.

“Oh, but you do look lovely,” Danielle says. “I never thought I’d say this, but pregnancy really suits you, Lou.”

Louis laughs, says, “I never thought I’d hear it from you. Or anyone really. But thanks, love.”

Truth be told, Louis thinks that the pregnancy has aged him. More than ever, he notices the bags under his eyes and the way his back aches when it’s especially cold. He’s not sure whether or not this is a bad thing.

His phone beeps, and when Louis checks, it’s another message from Zayn. "Dnt 4get 2 drink lots of h2o- uv got ur ultrasound 2day! pick u up @ 12:15?”

Louis shoots a quick reply, “will do & sounds good,” then pops his phone away.

“Who was that then?” Liam asks. “Harry and Niall gotten back yet?”

The waiter arrives then with their food and Louis almost laughs at her expression when the young girl realises that most of the food is for Louis to eat.

“Ta,” he says as she leaves. “And no, Li, it was Zayn. Said he and I should meet at quarter past. 'M getting my first ultrasound today.”

“Oh my gosh, that must be so exciting,” Danielle says. “Are you going to find out the sex?”

Louis thinks about it, because honestly it hadn’t even crossed his mind yet.

“Dunno really. Might do, but I guess the surprise is half the fun these days. Not that this one’s been enough of a surprise already.”

“What time did you say, though?” Liam asks. “’Cause it’s almost quarter to now, and you know how Zayn can be.”

Louis swears, and wishes aloud that his mates wouldn’t say 12:15 when he knows they’ll be there at ten past.

“Well,” Danielle says, unfolding a napkin onto her lap and picking up her sandwich. “Better get started then.”

-

Zayn is leaning outside Louis’ flat when they get back, just as they had predicted. He’s got his glasses on and a soft grey jumper that Louis has half a mind to steal. It’s either colder than usual, or Louis really _is_ becoming more sensitive as the baby grows. Zayn’s texting, but gives Louis a _just a sec_ gesture.

“Thanks so much for the lunch, and sorry I interrupted your movie,” Louis says, turning to face the couple as they reach Liam’s door.

“I told you, it’s no problem,” Danielle says with a soft hit to Louis’ shoulder. “We love hanging out with you, and I love catching up. And besides, Li and I probably needed to get out of the house today.”

“And now you’re back again," Louis laughs. “Well, Zayn and I should get going then. But yeah, thanks.”

Danielle kisses his cheek, and reminds him to tell her how the scan goes, “once you get the results, of course.”

He hugs her back, then Liam too. As they head inside, Louis whistles at Zayn to get his attention.

“We ready to go then, Mr Chauffeur?”

“Who was the one already waiting?” Zayn replies, and Louis smiles. “C’mon, I've already called for a car to be out front.”

-

The clinic has a tiny waiting room, sterile smelling and altogether too blue for Louis’ liking. Zayn's chatting up the receptionist (and okay, so that’s part of the reason Zayn doesn’t mind tagging along) and Louis sits down in a chair while he waits. On the little coffee table lies a stack of magazines, and so of course the top one is about Louis.

“IS LIAM BEING REPLACED BY A DIFFERENT KIND OF DADDY DIRECTION?” blazes across the cover in garish pink font. The pictures that the magazines are using for his pregnant state have been fairly sedate, mainly just ones from group outings, the baby bump barely visible. This one, though, has gone all out, snapping a picture of Harry and Louis as they’d gone shopping for groceries last week. A giant red arrow points to Louis' stomach and there’s the most stupid cartoon baby inset into the photo that somehow still makes him smile.

Louis picks up the magazine, even though he knows he shouldn’t, and thumbs through the pages. They’d arrived at twenty to one, just in time for the 12:45 appointment, but Dr Rogers is running late, as per usual. Louis sometimes wonders if it’s just the other four boys that are out of sync with the world, rather than him being late.

The front cover directs him to page 14 for “A COMPREHENSIVE TIMELINE OF THE LARRY STYLINSON BABY” and Louis almost laughs at how _coupley_ the mag tries to make his and Harry’s relationship seem. There are pictures of Harry helping Louis out of the car, of them kicking a football around in the park and even of the five of them getting into a van to go to management, the day Paul told them the story.

One of the photos, though, makes Louis pause. It’s not a very big one, tucked away in the corner, and the magazine hasn’t seemed to have a date for it but–

Louis in the picture is leaning over a bridge at the park, probably to look at the ducks swimming below. Harry is standing behind him, arms wrapped around Louis’ torso and chin hooked over Louis’ shoulder. Looking at the photo, Louis can almost remember the way Harry’s hands felt hugging his stomach. There’s a sudden rush of _love_ that Louis feels for his best mate, and he tries to imagine what the pregnancy would be like without him.

He feels rather lost.

Zayn breaks through his reviere though, calls “Louis! Oi, Rogers is ready now!” and Louis puts down the magazine. Standing up, he pulls on his sweater to straighten it and tries to avoid looking like a total mess before the receptionist directs him through to “Room 7, though I think you know where it is by now". Zayn asks him if he should come along, but Louis waves him off, and tells him to have fun with Lisa and that he’ll call when the ultrasound starts. Lisa looks between the two guys, then quickly scribbles down her number, passing it to Zayn and saying that he should probably accompany Louis, since it’s such a milestone. Zayn pockets it with a smile and promises to call.

As they walk down the corridor, Louis gives Zayn a punch on the arm.

“You dog,” he says slyly, like it wasn’t Zayn’s intention to get her number the whole time.

Zayn simply shushes him and makes Louis walk in first to Dr Roger's office.

The walls here are a little better, a deeper green rather than the grey blue of the waiting room, but the lights are the same bright fluorescence.

“Mr Tomlinson! How are you feeling?”

“Rogers, old mate, I thought I said to call me Louis. Or Lou. Or Tommo. Or the Tomlinator.”

Zayn smothers a laugh at that, like he’s imagining the crotchety old man in front of them to start calling Louis _the Tomlinator_ on a regular basis.

“Louis then,” Dr Rogers says with authority. “How are you faring lately, Louis?”

“Oh, not too bad, Doc. Just the usual – hungry most of the time, and a bit tired but nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Sounds good then. Is the medicine you’re taking still okay? No problems with the dosages or ill side effects?”

Louis takes a moment to think about it, eyes passing over the many diagrams of the female reproductive system around the room.

“Not unless you count moodiness? But my mum said that that’s probably more me being a whiner.”

“And she’d be right,” Dr Rogers deadpans. “But since everything seems to be fine, and we haven’t got a change in hormone dosages planned until your 28th week or so, I suppose we should get started on your physical.”

Louis looks at Zayn, a _do you really have to be here for this_ glance, but the other boy just whistles innocently, or at least tries to. There’s too much laughter in his eyes at seeing Louis stand at the weighing scale, wiggling toes and distended stomach.

Dr Rogers has him lift up his sweater and undershirt so he can use the stethoscope, listen to Louis heart and lungs. Afterwards, he tugs the two down and relishes in the relative warmth of his clothing. Louis’ least favourite part is when Dr Rogers checks his throat because the guy always puts the oversized popsicle stick too far back on his tongue.

“Well,” Dr Rogers says, throwing the stick in the bin and washing his hands. “You seem to be in good shape, although you could probably have skipped the garlic bread at lunch. I think that if you’re ready, we could do your ultrasound today? I know I asked you this last week, but it’s important for me to check you’re comfortable with the proceedings.”

Louis nods, nerves making him quiet and goes to lie back on the lounge chair contraption that he’s never quite figured out. Zayn moves from the little chair next to Dr Rogers’ desk to stand next to Louis at the bed.

The nurse helps Dr Rogers set up the ultrasound machine, and Dr Rogers talks Louis through the process. Louis pulls of his sweater and passes it to Zayn, and waits for the procedure to start.

“It’s going to be cold, the gel,” Dr Rogers says, and fuck is that an understatement. Louis almost shirks away from the gel applicator, but stays still long enough for the skin of his lower stomach to be covered.

“Now, I’m going to pass the wand over your abdomen, and hopefully what we’ll see is your baby developing healthily.” The machine starts up, and it’s a little loud in the room. The fact that four people are within the small space makes it seem a little cramped, but also more personal.

“You're probably wondering why we haven’t done an ultrasound before,” says Dr Rogers as he wheels the monitor around. “I’m usually not the one to actually perform the ultrasounds for my patients, since I can just refer to them to an ultrasonographer, but you’ve always been a special case, Mr Tomlinson.”

On screen, Louis can see the fuzziness of movement, but not much else. Still, it’s enough that he reaches blindly to grab Zayn’s hand.

“Louis Tomlinson,” says Dr Rogers. “I’m proud to have been able to perform your ultrasound today as your doctor. I can hopefully say that you’re going to have a lovely child in six months or so.”

The picture is clearer now, and as the wand passes over Louis’ lower stomach, a baby-like shape is on the screen. Strike that, Louis’ _baby_ is on the screen and at that moment, it hits Louis so hard that this is his. This baby is his and this pregnancy is his, and this giant lump in his throat that’s almost making him cry. It’s all his.

Zayn squeezes Louis’ hand like he understands and Louis thinkswisheshopesknows that his kid will grow up with the best uncles ever.

-

Dr Rogers sends Louis home with an appointment to come back on the 24th to pick up the scans.

“And I know, it’s Christmas Eve and your birthday, but it’s also the earliest we can get them to you at the holiday season, and I know you want them as soon as possible,” Lisa says as she writes down the appointment on the back of Dr Rogers’ business card.

“So a present for me, really, then,” Louis says, smiling. “Thanks, Lisa. I’ll be sure to come in.”

He’s still a little subdued by the entire experience and walking out, he bumps his shoulder against Zayn’s.

“’S pretty surreal, hey,” he says and Zayn bumps shoulders back, says, “Just a tad.

I mean, mate. Don’t get me wrong, I love you, and I know you’re great with your sisters and all, but if you’d told me a year ago Louis Tomlinson would be three months pregnant and I would see his kid on a monitor screen, I’d say you’d’ve had too much to drink.”

Louis laughs at this, and shoves Zayn a little more roughly than usual as they get into the car.

The drive over is pretty quiet, the radio on and Zayn chattering on about how Lisa is apparently free this weekend. Louis smiles, happy that his mates; lives aren't completely revolving around the pregnancy, like the magazines make it out to be.

Zayn waits until Louis’ got the kettle on in his and Harry’s flat, and has some movies and biscuits lined up, before he heads back to his own place.

Louis’ just good to relax now, sits down with a cup of cocoa and props his feet up to watch the first movie.

-

When Harry gets home later that night, he looks a little upset. There’s this little crinkle between his eyebrows that tells Louis something is wrong, but that Harry’s closed off, doesn't want to talk about it right away.

Louis hopes that he’ll be able to read the baby’s moods this easily, once it is born. As things go, though, Louis plonks himself down next to where Harry is sat, remote in hand, and waits.

A couple of minutes pass, the TV white noise in the background, and Louis tentatively moves to cuddle Harry's side.

“Oh, I’m not pissed at _you_ ,” Harry sighs, cold mood breaking. “Come here.”

Louis snuggles closer, tucking his head into Harry's body.

“You wanna talk about it, then?” Louis asks. Usually Harry would have had it out by now and it’s not like the pregnancy has made Harry _harsher_.

“I just.” Harry runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I– Why didn’t you tell me you were having your first ultrasound today?”

At that, Louis’ eyes widen a little in surprise.

“Is that what this is about? The ultrasound? But you said you weren’t pissed at me.” He shuffles a little away or at least tries to, but Harry holds him close.

“’M not. I’m pissed at myself. Should’ve been there,” he says, and _oh_. Louis thinks he understands now.

“You know it went fine, right? You and Niall had stuff to do. And besides, Zayn was there. The gel was a little weird and sticky, but it’s not like I have trouble with that sort of stuff.” Louis winks to break the tension.

Harry looks a little less tense now, but the crease still persists. Ignoring the joke, he soldiers on.

“But what if I wanted to be there? I mean. It’s my kid too, right?”

There’s a pause, then Harry realises what he’s said.

“I mean, if someone found out that the supposed father of your child wasn’t even there at the first scan, then– ”

“Then they’re probably over thinking it, love. Kind of like how you are now. You can tag along next time, if you want. Or really, just come along next week when I go to get the final pictures. It’s no big deal. You’re coming over for Christmas Eve dinner anyway, right? We’ll pick them up and bring them home as a surprise. Does that sound okay?”

Harry looks like he might still be pissed at himself, but he mumbles an okay.

At this point, it seems they’ll both take what the other will give.

“Okay, well since that’s settled,” Louis says, “can we change the channel? This cooking programme’s making me hungry.”

-

Louis has been lucky, since their schedule has been pretty clear, but Liam helpfully reminds him that they’ve got the Christmas concert on Friday night.

Management has scheduled for them to play at an open stage, and although it means that fans will be out in the cold, the setting makes it perfect for a bunch of Christmas themed covers. Louis would find it horribly cheesy if he weren’t wearing Niall’s stolen reindeer sweater.

They’re in Zayn’s living room, since it’s the most sparsely furnished and they can lounge around without knocking over Niall’s collection of pint glasses or Liam’s turtle tank. Which Zayn swears that he didn’t mean to bump that one time, but they’ve pretty much permanently moved to Zayn’s place when practising.

The setlist is a mishmash of their first album and Christmas tunes, although all rather secular songs. He’s pretty sure that Harry requested _All I Want For Christmas is You_ because his flatmate is looking over way too often during his solo.

Louis retaliates by making faces while he’s not singing, and facing to mock-serenade Harry when he is. Liam is just shaking his head at the two of them and Niall is ignoring the antics in favour of trying to steal some of Zayn’s food. Louis wonders when his life turned into a sitcom.

-

There’s a little moment of hesitation before they go on stage – it’s the first performance they’ve had since the news was announced and Louis really doesn’t know what the real fan reaction will be like. Before he can work himself up too much over it, Harry comes up behind him, rests his hands on Louis’ shoulders and gives him something of a massage and pep talk in one.

“It’ll be awesome,” he says, leaning in close to talk right into Louis’ ear. “You will be fine and the fans are still here for us. At least, the ones standing out there are.”

Louis swallows down his anxiety and leans a little into Harry’s touch.

“Are you sure you’re still okay to go on, Lou?” Harry asks then and Louis takes a moment to think about it. He could sit this one out. He could sit back on the couch in the dressing room, with a can of coke and his phone and wait for the concert to be over. He could avoid the cold of the outdoor stage and the hundreds of fans that have waited all day to catch a glimpse of what is really just five boys being paid to have fun.

Louis nods his head, yes, to Harry, and grabs his hand in solidarity.

“I can do this.”

“ _We_ can do this,” Harry says and tugs Louis to follow him closer to the stage entrance.

Zayn, Liam and Niall are already standing at the ready, and Liam flashes Louis a reassuring smile before leading them all on stage. The band is already set up and they can hear the crowd chanting, but the screams become overwhelming as soon as they walk out front.

“Good evening everyone!” Liam's voice booms out across the stage and Louis will never, can never get enough of this rush.

“We’d like to thank you all for coming out tonight! We are One Direction and Baby Tomlinson and we hope you enjoy our show!”

At that, Louis turns to make an incredulous face at Liam, but the music to Up All Night’s already started and all he gets is a glimpse at the other boy’s face, and the grin plastered across it.

-

The concert ends at around half ten, but post-show showers and the trip back means that they only leave the area at quarter past eleven. There are a couple of girls still loitering around when they go to leave and somehow Liam manages to muster up the energy to go over and sign posters and CDs. Zayn is already conked out at the back of the van, Niall suspiciously “just resting his eyes” while leaning beside him. Harry is spending most of his energy keeping Louis from falling asleep while walking to the van. They make it inside without much trouble, and when Liam joins them, he passes something along to Louis.

It’s a tiny little beanie, a bit like the grey one he used to wear and Louis’ heart makes a funny little jump when he sees it.

“One of the girls out there said she made it for your baby,” Liam explains and Louis’ so focused on the tiny little pom-pom on the end that he almost misses Harry saying thank you on their behalf.

The van is pulling away from the venue when Louis finally gets his words back, and they pass the small gaggle of fans, fans that have waited out longer than the boys are probably worth and who apparently support Louis and his baby. It’s all that Louis can do to smile at them as brightly as he can as they pass.

There is every possibility that Louis is milking the pregnancy thing a little when they arrive to the flat complex, exhausted, and he flops down on Harry’s bed instead of his own. It’s well known amongst them that Harry’s bed is the smallest and therefore is not supposed to be shared, but Harry’s room is closer to the front door and Louis honestly feels like he can’t walk another step.

His eyes are closed, but he can feel Harry’s stare on him, and he almost decides that making Harry happy is worth the few steps to his room. But Harry simply tells Louis to move over a little, and spoons up behind him, arms around Louis’ torso and mouth practically at Louis’ ear.

“Your hair is still wet,” he says, voice slow and warm, and they’re awfully close together on the bed.

Louis musters up enough energy to respond with a _mruhghrg_. The concert took a lot more out of him than he expected.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Harry continues, “but you’re going to be the one with a head cold later.”

Again, Louis barely responds, so Harry just pulls the comforter up over the both of them, and rests his hands back down on Louis’ stomach.

“G’night, Lou,” says Harry. “You did so well tonight.”

-

When he wakes up for the first time on Saturday morning, Harry’s hand is still splayed across his stomach. Louis’ much too comfortable to move yet, and he swears it’s the sleep acting when he pulls Harry’s arm closer around him and shuts his eyes once more.

The second time he wakes up, Harry is gone, already in the kitchen, from what Louis can hear.

He debates staying in bed for a little longer, but the rumbling of his stomach wins out over the warmth of the covers, and he rummages in Harry’s drawers for some socks before heading out of the room.

Louis tries to sneak up on Harry, but his stomach betrays him.

“Okay, okay,” Harry laughs, turning around to plate the eggs and bacon he’s frying. “Breakfast food for Louis and his growing baby.”

It’s strangely reminiscent of a morning 14 weeks ago, and Louis can’t actually believe it’s been that long. Everything has sped up and slowed down all at once and he’s not quite sure how to take it.

“Lou,” Harry says again, and Louis realises he’s zoned out during breakfast.

“Yeah, Harry?”

“I said what’re we going to do today, since apparently Liam, Zayn and Niall are sleeping in.” Harry’s already finished eating, plate pushed away from him and mug of tea now in his hands.

Louis chews his mouthful carefully, swallows it and asks, “How d’you know that?”

Harry waves his mobile in the air with a cheeky smile.

“Apparently it’s “bad form” to text people at eight in the morning,” Harry says, complete with air quotes. “So what do you wanna do?”

“What do _you_ want to do?” Louis retorts, sticking his tongue out.

“Anything you’d like,” Harry says and now Louis knows they’re stuck in a vicious cycle of “no, you choose” until someone makes it stop.

He sets his fork aside, having finished his eggs and takes a sip from the glass of orange juice that Harry bought just for him (medium pulp, no artificial sweeteners).

“Well, I still need to buy the girls some presents for when we visit on Monday, if you want to do that? It might be a little crazy to sort out, but you can still tag along?”

Harry smiles, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to want to be trapped in the last minute Christmas rush with a pregnant best friend and a list longer than his arm.

“Sounds perfect,” he says, and Louis thinks that maybe with Harry at his side, today might actually be that.

-

Monday morning dawns cold and bright. Louis has been coffee and tea free for too many weeks to count anymore. Still he still can’t help looking forlornly at the kettle in their kitchen.

Harry finds him like this, standing in his pyjamas, staring at the stovetop and glass of juice in hand. The other boy is already dressed in dark wash jeans and a tee.

“Morning Birthday Boy,” Harry says. “What time do we need to be at the clinic by?”

He’s got his head in one of the cupboards, probably looking for the tea that Louis shouldn’t consume and Louis sighs at the thought of caffeine.

“Lou-is,” Harry sing-songs. “The clinic. Appointment today. Pictures. Of your baby.”

“Oh,” Louis says, eyes still following the mug of Harry’s. “Um, half nine.”

“Okay then,” Harry replies and he’s pouring some milk into his mug now. “You alright, though? You seem kind of out of it.”

Louis tries to covey his dislike of morning and lack-of-caffeine, but only manages a mishmash of consonants.

“Ah, okay then,” Harry says. “Better get you in a shower then.”

Before Louis can get a handle on the situation, Harry’s put his mug down and started steering Louis back to his room, and through to the en suite. He turns the shower on, as hot as he can get it, and tugs at the hem of Louis’ sleep shirt.

“C’mon, lazy arse,” he says. “It’s almost eight, and I’m pretty sure you still need to pack for tonight. Your mum’ll be so disappointed if you turn up in your sweatpants for your birthday and Christmas dinner.”

Louis lifts up his arms, letting Harry pull the top off of him. If he were more awake, Louis would probably feel self-conscious, but as it is, he just notices how steam is starting to fill the room.

“Bottoms, Lou. You can’t get clean wearing those”

Louis lifts an eyebrow as if to say, wanna bet? He steps out of his pants anyway and sees that Harry’s averted his eyes.

It’s not something that Harry would usually do, since they’ve all seen each other naked before, but Louis chooses to ignore the weirdness in favour of stepping into the shower.

“Ta, love,” he says to Harry, but all he gets in response is a reminder, as he leaves the bathroom, to “Wash behind your ears!”

Louis stands under the hot water for a minute or two, ostensibly to adjust to the heat. Really, he’s letting the water run through his hair, watching little rivulets come down his pecs and follow the line of what use to be his abs. Now, they curve slightly over his stomach.

He reaches out for the shampoo, and gives his hair a quick wash. Usually shampooing his hair leads to a lot of thinking, but Louis’ brain isn't quite up to it yet.

The shower is helping him get up though, and by the time Louis is reaching for the body soap, his mind is ticking at a more reasonable pace. Louis actually does clean behind his ears, just in case Harry will ask, and when he steps out of the shower, he finds that Harry’s replaced his normal scratchy towel with one of his own, fluffy towels of goodness.

Louis wraps it around his waist and marvels at the way his stomach actually pushes at the fabric of the towel. Standing face on, looking through the steam to the mirror, there’s not much difference, but then Louis turns and it’s like he swallowed a small football, like the ones he played with as a toddler.

He picks up the shaving cream and his razor and slowly starts to remove the two-day growth on his face. Louis wants to look good today, on Christmas Eve and his birthday, since it’s really the only time he can go over for a while now. It’s a little surreal to think that he’s another year older now, another year past his teens. It’s also another year that he doesn’t want to acknowledge too much, and Louis’ glad that his friends give him that.

He finishes up in short time, practise making him faster but it makes Louis wonder if this will be just as surreal in three more months, shaving when he’s got a watermelon in his belly. He splashes aftershave onto his skin and slaps his cheeks a few times. Louis guesses he’s just lucky all the pregnancy weight seems to be going to his stomach and arse so far, and his face has been saved.

Wandering back into his room, Louis finds that Harry’s already picked out an outfit for today and tomorrow, the latter being folded neatly and matched with a pair of socks. Louis smiles as he pulls on the navy v-neck and black cardigan, neither really hiding the baby bump. Louis thinks the low-slung jeans and buttoned top kind of accentuates it, but he trusts Harry’s sense of style. Plus, it’s comfy.

He packs the clothes for the next day in a suitcase where he’s already got the presents and drags it out to the living area. Harry’s seated there, slice of toast in one hand and the remote in the other.

“Thanks for getting me up, Hazza,” Louis says and he makes the other boy budge over the couch.

“No problem. Knew you wouldn’t get moving if I didn’t make you.”

Louis laughs at the truth in that, and asks what the time is.

“Around nine now, so we’ll probably have to pop our things in the car and get going soon.”

“Still need to eat though,” Louis says.

Harry shoves the rest of the buttered toast in Louis’ mouth.

“There you go, now, we gotta leave.”

-

They’re in the too-blue waiting room again, but Harry is the one fidgeting now. He's got one of the older trash magazines in hand and is flicking through it altogether too fast to be actually reading.

Louis puts his hand down on the page when Harry actually tries to skip past a cake recipe.

“You’re not nervous, are you?” Louis says, almost a hint of laughter in his voice. “You know we’re not actually getting anything done. I doubt we’ll even talk much to Dr Rogers.”

“I’m just– excited,” replies Harry.

“Aren’t we all?” a voice interrupts, and Dr Rogers is there offering a hand for Harry to shake. “Dr Rogers, Louis’ specialist. I’m assuming you’re his Harry then?”

Harry places his hand in Dr Rogers’, says, “Yessir. Very pleased to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Dr Rogers says.

“Oh, hello Louis, how are you doing? Fine thank you, and the baby’s good too. Well that’s just spiffy, Louis my mate,” Louis says.

For a moment, the many creases around Dr Rogers’ face seem to hint at a smile.

“Louis, Harry, if you’d like to come into my office, I can show you the scans and then you two can be off on your way.”

They nod and follow him into the corridor, Harry leading.

Harry pulls out a chair for Louis when they reach the desk in Dr Rogers’ room before sitting himself. On the desktop is a folder, closed, but Louis’ pretty sure he knows what's in them.

“Now, I don’t want to keep you long, so here’s the general gist of your last check-up. You’re doing fine, although you may need to start thinking about increasing your fitness before the nine months are up. The baby is good too, and as we saw on the monitor, it’s at about normal size for its age.”

He’s pulled out a couple of the scans now and Louis can tell it’s all Harry can do to not grab them straight away.

“Here’s the head,” Dr Rogers is saying, “and these blobby bits are its legs. It’s a bit hard to see much at this stage but hopefully in a few weeks time, the baby will be bigger and we’ll get a clearer image.”

Harry makes actual grabby hands now, takes the picture from Dr Rogers' hands and brings it closer to have a good look.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it,” Dr Rogers is saying, but neither of them are really listening – Harry engrossed in the scan and Louis engrossed in Harry.

Louis’ glad that Harry’s no longer beating himself up for missing the actual scan, but the way that Harry’s eyes light up just looking at the photo makes Louis wish that Harry had been there.

“So, in terms of what comes next. Louis, I’m going to increase your hormone treatment soon, because your body simply isn’t equipped for some of this process. I’ll also see about testing what pain relievers you respond to, in the lead up to the birthing stage. But that can all be done over the phone, and I know you’re busy since today is Christmas _and_ your birthday, so I’ll let you all go now. I’m sure you have a full day ahead. Lisa’s got a copy of the scans for you in the reception, but you can keep these too.”

“Thanks Doc,” Louis says, and reaches out to shake his hand cheerfully in a mechanical, pumping action, smile across his face. Harry’s much more subdued, but that may have to do with the scan still in his hand.

“See you in two weeks, Louis.”

-

The car drive to Doncaster is a rather quiet one, since Louis’ taken the chance to catch up on sleep. His glasses keep slipping down the bridge of his nose but he knows he’ll have to keep them on later to read the street signs at night.

Harry’s gotten antsy about letting Louis drive while pregnant, although Liam says he’s got the same problem with Harry driving while _young_. Harry’s being very careful, though, and Louis loves how relaxing it is to just follow the roads.

They stop over at a McDonald’s for lunch and Louis gets a quarter pounder, plus a kid’s meal. Harry raises his eyebrow at that.

“It doesn’t count if the kid is still inside you,” he says, but orders it for Louis anyway.

When he steals Louis’ fries to dip in his milkshake, Harry talks about how his mum and sister have taken the week off to go to Spain.

“So it’d just’ve been my step-dad and I,” he explains. “Anyway, I’m trying to say thank you for inviting me.”

“Are you kidding? My mum basically said that you were coming today, hell or high water.”

“Doesn’t matter. Thanks Lou,” Harry says.

“Just don’t forget to thank my mum,” Louis jokes in return, and then fishes out the toy from the Happy Meal.

“You’re kidding me,” he says, and waves it in front of Harry’s face, and Harry promptly cracks up laughing.

He’s laughing still when they pass the bin and Louis tosses the One Direction mini-toy-Louis in the bin.

-

When they arrive at Louis’ family’s place, the first thing Louis is wrap his arms around his mum in a hug.

“Missed you,” he murmurs into her ear and he’s not close to crying, not at all.

“You too sweetie. Happy birthday, Louis. It’s good to see you again,” his mum is saying into the collar of his shirt. “You look so different. But in a good way.”

When Louis finally lets go, Harry’s still fetching the two mini-suitcases from the trunk of the car and dragging them along the driveway. He pauses at the doorway though, still thrown wide open from when Louis’ mum had gone out to greet them, and stands a bit awkwardly, like he’s never been over before.

“Hello,” Harry says, a little hesitantly and Louis wonders what’s making him act this way, but then his mum is pulling away from Louis’ hug and walking up to Harry.

“Oh Harry,” Louis’ mum is saying, and she pulls him close to give him a quick hug and a peck on his cheek. “It’s good to see you as well. Thank you for coming over tonight, even though you probably had other plans.”

Harry laughs at that. “Thank you for inviting me, really. And there’s not really anywhere else I’d rather be on Christmas.”

The sincerity in Harry’s voice makes Louis want to join in on the conversation, but instead he claps his hands twice at Harry.

“Well, we won't even make it inside if you keep talking. Chop chop, someone has to bring in the luggage.”

“Lou,” his mum says, “why don’t you help Harry out there?”

“Pregnant, see, Mum. Can’t risk pulling a muscle.”

Harry sticks his tongue out at Louis. “You didn’t seem to have much trouble putting them into the car.”

“Shhh, Harry my boy. Different situation. Now, I’m starving, Mum, got any food?”

-

Dinner should be an awkward affair, what with the way his mum starts conversation by asking when Harry will make an honest man of Louis, but it’s really not. Harry manages to fit in seamlessly, as usual, even patting Louis heavily on the back after he chokes on his first mouthful of food.

“To be honest,” Harry’s saying, rubbing a hand up and down Louis’ back, “we hadn’t even thought of it. I mean, I’m not saying it’s off the table either, but you know how it can be.”

Louis’ face is still red, although whether it’s from coughing or from embarrassment he’s not really sure.

“Mum, you can’t just say things like that,” Louis says, and his sisters giggle.

“Why not? I just want to know what’s happening with the parents of my first grandchild.”

“Because you _can’t_ ," and maybe he’s being a bit too emphatic, but it’s Harry. _Harry_ , who he’s basically married to anyway, but that’s more of a bromance than anything.

“I do what I want,” his mum replies. “What I want now is for you to pass the bread rolls, though, so if you don’t mind.”

Louis reaches across his sister’s plate to fetch the basket, and narrowly misses putting his elbow in her mash potato.

“Whoops,” he says. “Sorry, pregnancy.”

“Lou,” the youngest of his sisters is saying, “you know you can’t do that with everything, right? Mum says you can’t. Does he do that all the time at home, Harry?”

Harry laughs and says, “Kinda, but I don’t mind.”

“Harry’s really just a pushover,” Louis explains.

“And Louis here is a sweet talker. We’re a perfect pair.”

-

Dinner ends with birthday cake for Louis, chocolate with buttercream frosting on top, and afterwards they have eggnog, which, according to a quick text from Liam, “shud b ok 2 drnk bt chek its pasteurised”.

Louis marvels at the fact that Liam can spell pasteurised but can’t manage to write with punctuation.

His mum passes along a mug to each of the girls in turn, then Louis. She and Harry get special glasses, and Louis’ about to accuse her of playing favourites when Harry’s expression explains it all.

“That’s definitely not just eggnog, is it?” Louis asks, and Harry shakes his head.

“I’ve always found that a little bit of liquor didn’t hurt anyone,” Louis’ mum says, winking. “Besides, we’re celebrating.”

“We are? What’re we celebrating?”

“You, you idiot,” the eldest of the girls says. “Congratulations on being born and officially making Mum feel old, because she’ll be a grandma soon.”

He flicks the offending sister on the ear, then proceeds to wrap her up in a hug. His arms loop around her shoulders and Louis really loves still being able to baby his sisters like this.

“Whoa, you can actually feel it,” she’s saying, and then they’re all gathering around to pet Louis’ belly.

“Not a freak show, you know,” he says.

Harry comes to sit next to him, too, though. “You are a bit of a freak, though,” and somehow it comes out as an endearment.

-

He wakes up to Harry’s curls tickling his nose and his youngest sister bouncing up and down on the end of their bed.

“Lou, Louis, Lou c’mon it’s already eight and you gotta get up ‘cause there’s presents.”

From where he’s tucked into Louis’ upper torso, Harry mumbles an “in a minute" and Louis laughs softly at that.

“’Kay, sweetie. Can you tell mum we’ll be down in a sec?”

“Yep,” she says, and jolts off to inform the rest of the household that they can have “presents soon!”

Louis lies back down, pulling the comforter straight where his sister’s movement had dislodged it.

“We’ve probably got another five minutes until one of them comes back,” Louis says.

Harry shifts slightly, and his head comes to rest on Louis’ sternum. The angle highlights the belly that Louis’ developing and Harry can’t help but put his hands on Louis’ stomach.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Harry asks, and Louis shakes his head, no.

“It’s amazing, you know, to think that there’s an actual baby growing inside of you. And I mean, we saw the pictures yesterday but to actually feel how your body has changed, Lou.”

Louis just nods, thinks that there must be something stuck in his throat.

A knock comes at the door then, and the eldest of his four sisters is now standing there.

“Knock, knock, lovebirds. Mum says that you actually need to get out of bed now, or your cocoa will go cold.”

Louis shifts to a sitting position in bed, and stretches his arms in a yawn.

“Okay, we’ll be right down,” Louis says.

“Eventually,” Harry adds, slipping out of bed to find some decent clothing to wear.

At the doorway, Louis’ sister has averted her eyes from Harry’s pyjama-less state.

“Um, I’ll. Yep, um just go. But mum wants you down ASAP so we can get started on the presents too.”

Louis physically gets up at that, because he knows that if he doesn’t do it now, he’ll not want to bother getting up at all. Turning to his sister, and grabbing Harry’s hand from behind him, Louis shouts for her to “Lead the way!”

-

There’s a hefty pile of wrapping paper and torn envelopes on the ground before Harry and Louis even get to their presents.

“C’mon boys, we’ve saved some of the best gifts for last,” Louis’ mum is saying, and she indicates to a garishly green and red present.

His sisters have pooled their money together to get Louis _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ , which makes him just about die of laughter. Inside, they’ve written a note, “because apparently every pregnant person needs this, and watching the movie doesn’t count.”

Louis turns to show the message to Harry and his best friend laughs along with him. He kisses each of his sisters on the forehead, wrapping them all into a group hug. Louis used to wonder how his family were dealing with this– this surprise, but his sisters’ present reassures him that they don’t think he’s a freak. Or at least, that’s the message he’s getting.

He goes to kiss his mum, too, because Louis knows that she works so hard and he just plain misses her sometimes.

“Thanks mum,” he says and she’s got a soft smile on her face.

“This one’s also for you, Lou,” and his mum passes him a soft package, wrapped up in paper that looks suspiciously familiar.

Turning to Harry, he says, “I thought we promised no gifts!”

“Just open it,” Harry says. “I um, didn't know what size to get, so I just got a whole bunch in different sizes.”

Louis’ tearing off the paper as Harry talks, and laughs when he sees the baby onesies in a range of colours. He lifts up the one on top and shows it to his sisters.

“It’s the same as my one!” he exclaims and there’s a grin threatening to split his face.

“I thought matching ones would be cute,” Harry mumbles out. “D’you like them?”

“Of course I do, you dolt,” Louis says, flicking Harry’s arm. “They’re perfect. Thank you.”

And he doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, but Louis leans over and kisses the corner of Harry’s mouth.

The moment is broken when his sisters start saying “eww” and “aww” in equal amounts, and when Louis’ mum joins in too.

“Oh, shuddup, the lot of you,” Louis says, and really, his blush might rival the one blooming on Harry’s face right now. “Also, that reminds me.”

He fishes behind the Christmas tree, where he’d tucked his present for Harry when they’d arrived.

“So much for no presents,” Harry says, and Louis’ mum titters.

“I thought I taught you better than to break a promise, young man,” she lectures Louis in good humour.

“Mum, I love you, but shush. Here, Harry, take your present.”

It’s only a small package, but Louis hopes Harry gets it when he tears open the wrapping paper. He honestly didn’t know what to buy Harry that his flatmate couldn’t purchase himself, so Louis went the old school route.

“...It’s a CD,” Harry says, looking a little bewildered.

“It’s um, a mix tape, actually. Of um, some songs that I thought you would like.

“Oh,” says Harry.

“I just, uh, thought it’d be nice. You know. I um, could always get you that blazer you wanted instead, I mean. It’s not that big of a present, and I know you put a lot of effort into yours and...” Louis trails off, suddenly all too aware that his entire family is watching Harry stare blankly at Louis’ present on Christmas morning.

Harry seems to shake out of it then, though.

“Oh, God, no, Louis, I love it,” and when Louis lifts his head to look, Harry actually looks happy, the hint of a smile on his lips. “It’s just. Unexpected is all. Thank you, though.”

He reaches over to hug Louis, one-armed, and the curls of his fringe tickle Louis’ cheek.

There’s a moment of silence, a twinge of uncertainty still in the air when Louis’ mum claps her hands.

“Alright, boys, well we need to start cleaning up this mess. Thank you for the lovely presents, especially you, Harry. Feel free to come over any time, even if Louis’ too busy to pop over.”

“Too pregnant, Mum,” Louis laughs from where he’s walked over to pick up wrapping paper. “And we’re here now, right?”

“Right,” his mum and Harry say at the same time.

“Right,” Louis nods.

-

Not that he’s told anyone yet, but there’s a drawer in Louis’ room, the middle one on the left side, that he’s cleared out for baby gifts from the fans. Inside is the small beanie from the Christmas concert, a couple of teeny, tiny bracelets that he’ll probably not get to show his kid until he or she has grown up, and a little quilted blanket sent from a fan all the way over in Canada.

On top of these items, he places the presents Harry got for his baby. Louis is not quite sure what it means when his heart twists at the tiny red booties that Harry nested between a green onesie and an American flag one.

He shuts the drawer in any case, and heads back out to the lounge where he knows Harry will be sitting with A Christmas Carol on DVD.

-

Louis is walking back to the complex with Niall after lunch on Thursday, both of them a little pinked from the blustery winds.

“By the way, Lou, how’s it going with Harry?” Niall asks. It’s rather out of the blue, considering all that they’d been discussing was the Christmas break.

“Uh, good, I suppose? It’s kinda still the same back home.”

Niall nods at that. “Thought so. Listen mate,” and he stops and turns to face Louis, puts one hand on either shoulder. “I love you, you know that. So I’ve your best interests in mind when I say be careful.”

“What?” asks Louis bemusedly.

“Seriously, just. Maybe take a step back for a while, yeah? Y’know how Harry can be, and I know how you are at times.”

“Really, Nialler, what brought this on? Being a little too serious nowadays, are we? Thought that was my job, what with the– ” he pats his stomach, “and all.”

Niall sighs a little at this, but drops his hands and turns back around to keep walking. “I went driving with Harry yesterday, you know.”

“Mmm, yeah, I do recall that. Left me to my own devices and nearly died,” Louis says.

“You were still asleep when we came back!”

“Exactly. Could’ve died.”

Louis laughs when Niall goes to punch his shoulder but can’t seem to bear to hurt him. Sticking his tongue out, Louis blows a raspberry.

“Anyways, Harry had an, um, interesting CD in his car.”

“Ooooh, must be the mix tape. Did he like it?” Louis asks.

“I– uh. Just. Be careful, is all I’m saying.” He opens the door ahead of them for Louis, and lets him walk in front.

“I really don’t get it, Niall. Be careful about what?”

But whatever Niall is about to say is lost when they reach Louis’ flat, and Harry is there when Louis opens the door.

“You know,” Niall says. “Just forget it for now. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

-

Because he’s approximately six years old, Louis is moping. He’s moping because it’s New Year’s Eve, and instead of being out with the boys and their partners, he’s stuck at home, nursing a hot chocolate and pretending to watch America’s Next Top Model re-runs.

Louis wishes he weren’t “up the duff”, as Niall so delicately puts it, because he _misses_ going out, just plain old misses the excitement of the clubs, the rounds of drinks with Niall and Zayn, the way Liam would lose his inhibitions when Danielle was with them. Louis misses the way that Harry wouldn’t mind passing over a girl just to dance stupidly with him, he misses being squashed into booths and trying to avoid recognition.

Louis also misses having someone to snog at midnight, but that’s not really the main point.

The point is that instead of listening to Tyra tear another model a new one, he’s checking his phone approximately every five minutes to see if the others have texted yet. It’s not exactly as if they mean to leave him lonely, because Liam really did ask Louis if he wanted them to stay in, but Zayn had this look in his eyes which says that Lisa is probably going to be there, and Danielle had already turned up dressed to the nines, so Louis waved them off and told them to have some fun.

Louis thinks he’s having fun, but the noise of the TV is making his eyes heavy. The only thing worse than being alone on New Year’s, Louis thinks, is sleeping through it.

He’s startled by a loud banging sound a little while later, and checks his phone to find that it's a quarter to midnight and Harry has apparently tried to call him six times. It’s rather confusing, because last Louis checked, the boys were all out on the town.

The noise continues and Louis’ sleep addled mind realises that it’s the door, someone’s knocking on the door.

“Coming,” he calls, and prays a little that it’s not a mass murderer. Chances are that it’s Harry, but Louis can never be too sure around these parts.

When he opens the door a crack, Harry is standing on the other side, hair more than mussed and the tip of his nose red from the wind. And maybe alcohol.

“Looooou,” Harry slurs a little, and it’s more than maybe alcohol. “Louis, why didn’t you open the door?”

It’s probably the saddest that Louis’ heard Harry in a long time, and so he opens the door a little more to let him in.

“You should have your key. And what’re you doing here? I was asleep, ‘cause you said you’d be out with Zayn and Niall and Liam.”

If Louis sounds a little petulant, it’s not like Harry can notice. In fact, Louis would be surprised if Harry noticed anything with his head slumped into Louis’ shoulder. It’s getting awfully hard to keep them both balanced.

“Would rather’ve been here with you,” Harry says into Louis' neck.

Louis scoffs at that and tries to pry the younger boy off of him and onto the couch.

“C’mon, you’re drunk. You need to lie down while I get you some water.”

Harry grunts at that, which is apparently submission, and flops down onto the couch. Somehow, he squishes the remote and the volume turns up to an ungodly level.

“Crap,” Harry moans. “Louis, make it stop.”

Louis darts over to shut off the TV, then shakes his head at Harry.

“How’d you even manage to make it back alone? Wait, no don’t answer that yet. I’ll get that drink.”

Louis putters over to the kitchen and tries not to feel like an idiot. Harry has obviously come back from a great night out, considering the way he’s smiling so much from his place in the lounge room.

“Gonna be a great dad,” Harry mumbles as Louis lifts him into a sitting position and passes him the glass.

“Well,” Louis says, with absolutely no tight feeling in his chest, “I’m glad to know you feel that way.”

Harry tries to shake his head and swallow the water at the same time, which works out just as well as it sounds.

“Nuh-uh, not _my_ dad. Our kid’s. You silly.”

Louis must be really tired, ‘cause he swears that Harry just said “our kid”.  He passes the glass back to Harry so he can take another sip.

“C’mon, drink up. Why’d you come home yet anyway?”

Harry sniffles. “Was no fun without you.”

“What, no cute girls to snog at midnight?”

“No cute boys either,” Harry says. “Didn’t find anyone there that I wanted to be with.”

“Join the club,” Louis mutters, and he prods at Harry to get him to budge over a little.

“’S why I came back. Rather be with you,” Harry says, and it’s half drink muffled and half sincere and Louis really, really doesn’t know what his heart is doing.

Louis’ phone starts buzzing on the coffee table, and when he glances over, the screen is flashing 00:00.

“’S midnight,” Harry says, like he can’t believe it.

“Yep,” says Louis, and he feels like he’s missing something here.

“Hey Lou,” and Harry’s leaning in towards him, smelling a bit like sweat and alcohol, but also a lot like _Harry_.

They’re really close now, and Louis is kind of concerned at how lovely Harry’s eyes look up this close. He breathes out, “yeah?”

Harry responds by leaning in that little bit further, closing the gap between their lips and–

They’ve kissed before, yes, loads of times. Louis used to keep count, for the sake of prosperity, but then Harry would start doing countless tiny kisses, ones that lay on his cheeks and neck.

This is something different. This is midnight on New Year’s Eve. This is Harry’s mouth slowly moving against his, Harry’s hands travelling up to cup the base of his skull and twist in the hairs at the nape.

This is entirely too much and not enough at once, and Louis almost can’t breathe.

It’s then that Harry pulls away, presses their foreheads together. He’s got a silly little smile on his face and Louis remembers that Harry’s probably a fair few sheets to the wind.

“Happy New Year,” he says, and it’s everything Louis wants to hear, but with the added confusion of a kiss.

He doesn’t know how to reply, so Louis just nods and says, “Yeah. You too.”

-

The next morning should be awkward, but there’s really no time for it to be. Liam bursts in at half past nine with far too much energy for the first day of the year, and Danielle walking along slightly more subdued behind him. There’s something about the energy that must be contagious though, because Niall is bounding in five minutes later.

“Why’re you all up?” Louis groans, his head slumped onto the table in front of him. “Better yet, why’re you all _here_?”

“Liam said there’d be bacon,” Niall replies, coffee mugs in hand for himself and Danielle.

“I hope you don’t mind Lou,” and Louis is grateful that at least _someone_ has courtesy.

“It’s fine, Dani. I like _you_. These other guys, I’m not so sure about.”

She laughs at that, Liam looks up from where he’s intensely staring at the eggs, like it’ll make them cook quicker.

“Well, I figured you’d’ve gone to sleep early,” Liam explains as he stirs at the scrambled mixture. “Besides, yours was the only place not full of hung-over people.”

At that moment, a retching sound comes from Harry’s room and Niall and Liam wince in sympathy. Louis gives Liam a _look_.

“I said not _full_.”

Zayn walks in at that moment, since apparently the door hasn’t been locked all night.

“It is now,” Louis says, and Danielle rubs his back at that.

“Don’t worry, love,” she says. “Promise Li will give you extra food in recompense.”

“But it’s from my fridge anyway,” Louis complains, and it’s no longer serious, just a little annoyed. “Can I have some juice too, at least?”

Niall gets up then to fetch him his drink, and presumably a coffee for Zayn who’s slouched over the couch.

“You’re perfect,” Louis calls after Niall and his bandmate just grins in response.

Harry staggers out just as Liam plates the food and that boy really has impeccable timing. Louis tries to be embarrassed and thinks it should feel awkward, but it doesn’t.

Instead, Harry just plops himself down next to Louis, leans on his shoulder like it is natural (and maybe it is), and mumbles out a general, “Morning.”

“Good of you to join us, Harry,” Louis says, and he kisses the top of Harry;s hair. It really should be harder than this, but Louis won’t complain.

-

It’s towards the end of January, and week before the album is set to release, before Louis has to do any proper interviews. He’s lucky, as it is, because the management has allowed them to go quietly on their way. Apparently the marketing team thought that they could probably do with some privacy at the moment, because the air of mystery would prompt more talk than any promotions that they could do.

As it is, the five of them are sat at a long table, all facing the toothily smiling interviewer on an early Monday morning.

“Hello boys,” she starts. “Now, I’m sure we’re all super excited for your album, which comes out in about one and a half weeks now?”

“Yeah,” Liam starts, practised from the American tour last year and the countless interviews for their debut the year before. “Well, we’ve been sitting on this album for a good six months now and it’s only really been a matter of...”

Louis zones out a little, knowing how this goes. Liam will prattle on a little about the track listing, then Harry will say something about their singing style, maybe mention the word “grungier”, since that’s the key word for this album, and somewhere along the line, he’ll have to say a joke for Niall to laugh to. Zayn will sit brooding in the background, the others knowing full well that he's probably mentally playing noughts and crosses by himself.

“And how do you think your younger audience has responded to your changed image?” The interviewer directs the question to Louis, who takes a break from staring at Harry’s jaw line to answer.

“I don’t feel like we’ve honestly changed all too much,” he says, “unless you count being a bit more mature. And I think we’ve had a bigger part in this album, which means that you’ll probably hear slightly less clichéd lyrics.”

The interviewer laughs at that and Louis returns it with a bright smile.

“Now, Louis, I don’t want to make this all about you, since obviously One Direction fans want to hear about the album more than anything, but our team just wanted to say congratulations! This is actually your first interview since you revealed you’re expecting, correct?”

She sounds like she genuinely wouldn’t mind if they don’t follow the line of conversation. Louis wishes he could remember the interviewer’s name now, Clarisse or Carey or something, but he wasn’t really paying enough attention when the interview started.

“Yeah, love,” Louis says instead. He turns to look at the other boys, tries to see if Niall or Zayn mind that he’s hijacking the interview. Each of them is smiling though, and Liam gives him an encouraging nod.

Noting the silence, but also their smiles, the interviewer – Caity? Clarence? – continues with her questions. “So how do you think your pregnancy will affect the album?”

“Well, luckily we’ve already recorded it, so any crazy mood swings I may be having won’t have caused fights in the studio,” Louis says. “But no, really, my biggest concern is that I’ll look awfully fat in all these promotional shoots.”

Claire – and _that’s_ her name – laughs again, and Louis’ actually starting to like the light-hearted attitude of this girl.

“You look fine,” Harry interjects. “We all think Louis’ looking better than ever.”

“Which isn’t saying much,” Niall says and Louis reaches behind Harry’s shoulders to flick the tip of Niall’s ear.

“Oi, I’m bloody gorgeous,” says Louis indignantly.

“Agreed. But it must be tiring,” Claire continues, “what with all the concerts and signings coming up. Did you ever think at one point, should I really go through with this?”

Louis takes pause, but luckily Harry’s there to give him a quick squeeze on the shoulder.

“You know what? There might’ve been this one moment when I first found out that I thought I didn’t want to do it,” he turns to look at the boys as he says this. “But pretty much when the band said they’d be behind me, no matter what, well. It wasn’t that hard a decision.”

Louis tries not to focus too much on Harry, but their eyes meet anyway, and they share a smile. Of course, the interviewer notices and comments on it.

“And Harry, you were revealed to be the father when this all came out. Did you want to talk about your relationship with Louis?”

Harry smiles up at that, says, “Yeah. Well, Louis and I have always been pretty close, you know. Basically we were best mates for the longest time beforehand, so it was kind of a natural progression from that to what we are now. When I think about how Louis and I can just be ourselves with each other, it’s really something special.”

The other boys start _aww_ ing, but Louis ignores them in favour of reaching to Harry and holding his hand.

“I think that Harry’s definitely been really supportive about this whole thing, and I’m so, so glad to have someone like him in my life,” Louis says. Maybe it's a bit too honest, too serious. Someone in the know would notice that neither boy has said outright that they’re dating, but Louis wants to thank Harry for being dragged along in the whole debacle. Besides, Syco’s definitely sending someone to read over this interview before it goes to press in any case.

Claire smiles at this, a genuine one, and says that their love is kind of precious.

“It’s also kind of sickening,” Niall interrupts, and suddenly they’re back to messing with each other. “I mean, sure they’ve been hanging on to each other for years, but add to that pregnancy hormones and it’s like Louis and Harry are never apart.”

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees, laughing. “I think once Harry had to go and get a haircut and Louis couldn’t come along because he had a doctor’s appointment, and Louis almost died of separation anxiety.”

Louis pokes his tongue out at Zayn.

“Did not. I was just a little upset,” he says.

“If by upset you mean you texted Harry every five seconds until he came back, hair cut half finished and hair dresser in tow.”

“It’s amazing what people will do for you when you’re famous,” Liam says. “Hopefully it’ll only get better once the new album drops. I’m hoping for a pony myself.”

They all laugh at this, and the interview gets back on track.

-

By the time Friday rolls around, Louis is dead on his feet. They’ve had a load of promotional radio things, considering there’s been no single released before the album. They’re really riding off the success of _Up All Night_ , which means that all the boys are scrambling to make the new album sound like it’s worth buying.

It doesn’t help that he learnt through Niall that they were dropped from two of their major promotional TV spots when Louis’ news broke. Louis tries not to let it get to him, because they’ve still got some of the larger stations on their side, but it’s still tough to hear.

They’re heading back home now, though, the four of them squished into the van, and Paul there since they’re promoting. Harry's holding Louis’ wrist in his hand, rubbing the bone that sticks out. Sometimes Louis feels like Harry can sense the tension seeping out of him sooner than anyone else. Including himself. The back-forth-back-forth of his thumb is soothing and Louis almost falls asleep on Harry’s shoulder.

Heading up the stairs, Harry’s hand is a warm pressure on the small of his back and it’s either his imagination or Louis’ flatmate really _is_ more touchy feeling since this whole thing began.

“Think we’ll just head in for the night, guys,” says Harry, and Louis nods his agreement.

“Um, do you– d’you mind if we pop over for a bit?” Liam is asking, and that’s weird because normally Liam’s alright to leave them be. “It’s just that. It’d be nice for us to just have this little night together.”

Harry looks to be considering it, but then shakes his head. “Lou’s really tuckered. Maybe tomorrow, provided we don’t have something on in the morning?”

He’s got his key in his hand now, and Louis turns it in the lock, pushing the door open.

“SURPRISE!”

Louis blinks once, twice, three times. Instead of the darkness of his and Harry’s flat, there are streamers everywhere and what are possibly “Congratulations!” balloons. The room is filled with people, mainly their live band, a few old friends and, of course, standing in the middle of it all are Danielle and Ed.

“Wait, what?” Harry is saying, and Louis realises he hasn’t actually let anyone else in through the door yet.

He steps forward and tries to stop the large, but tired smile that’s forming on his face. Liam drops his hand down on Louis’ shoulder. “Sorry mate, should’ve realised what shit timing it was. But um, Dani and Ed wanted to throw you and Harry a baby shower since you’re due in five months and all.”

“Hey, stop it you,” Danielle says, walking up to Louis and giving him a warm hug.

“Thanks Dani,” Louis hears himself saying, and really he’s half out of it from being so tired, but it’s so, so nice to be surrounded by all his mates. He didn’t even realise how much he missed hanging out with everyone until now, and he tells Danielle this.

“I’m glad,” she says. “Sorry about the timing, though. Liam’s right, you must be exhausted.”

“Honestly,” says Louis, “I’d rather stay up with you all tonight.”

“You might even say you’d stay up all night,” Ed is saying as he joins them at the doorway.

Harry thwacks Ed’s arm. “You didn’t tell me this was happening!” he complains.

“Well, no,” says Ed, rubbing his arm. “That would’ve ruined the surprise. But Liam here knew, and Zayn too.”

From where he’s moved over to chat to Josh (and eat the finger food), Niall shouts, “Oi!”

“You’d’ve tattled,” calls back Danielle. Turning back to the boys, though, she grabs Louis’ hands.

“Come on, come inside and sit on the couch. We promise we’ve only messed up the hall and that room, and only because everyone brought presents.”

As they head in, everyone stops Louis and Harry, pulling them in for hugs and kisses and congratulations. Louis is a little overwhelmed by it all but Harry does most of the talking, so Louis just has to smile. There are clumps of people around the room, chatting about, presumably, Louis.

Collapsing on the couch, and watching as Ed does so opposite them, Harry pulls Louis close to let him lean on his shoulder. Louis mumbles a thanks and tries, really tries not to close his eyes.

“You guys should really look into baby proofing this flat soon, though,” Ed says.

“Why, Mr Sheeran,” replies Harry. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

Ed is pulling the most indignant face he can, which isn't really much. “Of course I care about my future godson.”

At this point, Danielle flops down next to Harry, pulling Liam along too. “Wait, _your_ godson?”

“Well, I did plan the party.”

“And on a shitty day, too,” Danielle retorts.

“I’m pretty sure you were meant to check with Liam,” Ed says, but it’s all in good humour.

“Children, please,” Louis mumbles. “Stop fighting. Dad’s really tired here. Both of you can be a godparent.”

They all laugh at that and Louis sits up to rub his eyes a little. “I should probably get up and walk around, otherwise I’ll just collapse on old Harry here, and he won’t be able to move for days.”

He tries to drag himself off the couch and ignores Harry’s little noise of protest, pushing the younger boy back down onto the couch.

“I can walk by myself, you know.”

“You sure you’re alright to mingle?” Liam asks and Louis nods.

“Haven’t seen most of these lads since this all started, so might as well take the chance to do so now.”

He wanders around the flat, saying hi to everyone again, but now stopping to listen to what has happened in their lives. Maybe fifteen minutes after he’s gotten up from the couch, Zayn comes along and presses a fruity-looking drink into Louis’ hand.

Waving at his belly, Louis shakes his head. “Can’t, remember? Pregnant and all, reason for this whole shebang?”

“Don't worry, they’re all mocktails tonight,” Zayn says. “Thought having something to drink might keep you awake.”

Turning to face the room as he sips from the glass, he spots Harry giggling along with Ed, Liam and Niall on the couch.

“Why is that lot all,” Louis waves his hand in the air, “then?”

“Just happy for you, mate. I mean, it’s a pretty big deal, tonight. Means you and Harry are really committing to this whole having-a-baby-together thing.”

Louis hrmms at that.

“I mean, it’s gonna be a bitch trying to find a new place to move into before you pop, so I assumed you’re both staying here, right?”

Across the room, Harry is throwing his head back in a laugh and Louis’ eyes follow the column of his throat.

“Harry’ll probably move out when this all blows over,” Louis says.

“Ha,” Zayn says. “Okay, just tell me when that’s meant to happen.”

Louis looks at him with a confused face.

“There’s not exactly a contract saying he has to stay,” Louis says. “Harry’s just doing this as a favour.”

“But there’s not exactly an end date either is there?”

He lets that sit for a little, and Louis has a sort of sinking feeling happening in his stomach. It’s almost as if the baby knows as well.

“I probably shouldn’t have said that,” Zayn says apologetically. “I know it’s meant to be a happy night tonight. It’s just. Listen, Harry’s a good guy, with a good heart. He’s a fantastic mate and way too selfless for his own good. I just want you to remember that.”

Louis tries not to react too much to that. “You and Niall should start a club, Tell Louis Cryptic Messages About Harry.”

“Look, no– ” Zayn’s saying, but Louis interrupts.

“I should probably get back to the party,” he says. As he walks off, Zayn makes a move as if to stop him, but Louis shrugs him off and goes to talk to some of his old school mates. At least he doesn’t have to really think about Harry when he’s with them.

-

When the party starts wrapping up at half nine, Louis’ a little relieved. Trying to avoid Zayn is hard enough without running into Danielle’s wary eyes at every turn. If he’s being too obvious in his careful avoidance of Harry, well.

That’s no one’s business but his own.

He asks Ed if he should open the presents now or later, but Ed just waves his hand dismissively.

“’S not like this’ll be the last time we see you. Thank us all later, when we’re popping in to see the little one running around. Or better yet, actually call me for once.”

“Will do,” Louis says, and Ed gathers him into a one-armed hug.

They’re standing in the doorway at this point, Ed the last guest to be leaving, save for Danielle.

“Take care of yourself, too,” Ed says into Louis’ ear and then he’s off as well.

Turning back around, Louis sees that Danielle has gotten up from her place on the couch, while Niall, Zayn and Harry are fixing up things in the kitchen.

“I’m completely knackered,” Louis announces. “Think I might just go to sleep, if that’s okay with you lot.”

Danielle walks up to him, puts an arm on his shoulder. “Of course, Louis. The boys and I will clean up here, you just rest.”

Behind her, Liam nods his agreement and starts picking up stray cups as he walks around the room.

Louis smiles tiredly in thanks, and goes to head off and change into sleep clothes. As he passes Danielle, she wraps him into a hug.

“Just, promise me we can hang out tomorrow, right? We haven’t actually caught up properly since New Year’s.”

“Of course,” Louis says, and kisses her on the cheek. “Just text me when and where.”

He goes into his bedroom and through his nightly routine in a daze; tries not to think too hard about what Zayn has said and Niall has implied. His and Harry’s relationship was always close, but since he fell pregnant and Syco intervened, things had changed between them.

Louis lies in bed and pretends he can’t hear his friends’ laughter through the bedroom walls. After maybe half an hour, Louis is still not asleep, despite how worn out he feels. His back is to the door, but he hears when Harry opens the door and checks in on him, like he’s wont to do lately.  The light from the hallway floods into Louis’ room, and he can see it through the thin skin of his eyelids. Usually, when Louis’ awake, they’ll end up talking for hours on end about everything and anything. Tonight, though, Louis slows his breathing and keeps his eyes closed until Harry backs out of the room and softly closes the door. He opens his eyes and it’s dark once more.

Eventually, Louis drifts off to an uneasy sleep.

-

When he wakes up, Louis’ glad to note that Harry is still asleep. Checking his phone, Danielle’s texted to see if he’s happy to meet at The Daily Grind again. Louis texts back a “:) c u then in 5 min?” and waits until she replies in the affirmative.

Pulling himself out of bed then, and into the shower, Louis tries to shake off the mood of the night before. He’s fine, really. Things between Harry and himself aren’t nearly as serious as their bandmates are making them out to be, they can’t. If things had gotten that bad, Liam would have intervened, and he’s said nothing as of yet. Or he’s over thinking everything again, Louis decides as he rinses out his shampoo.

He’s picking out a t-shirt and sweater to wear before he realises that half his wardrobe is Harry’s clothes now. Louis shoves the cupboards shut with maybe a little too much force and decides that a morning without Harry will probably do him good. They’ll talk over dinner in any case, because Harry promised to cook Louis lasagne for once.

He pockets his phone and wallet, walks out into the living room and scribbles a quick note down to tell Harry where he’s gone, though Louis is sure Danielle told all the boys the night before. The walk to The Daily Grind is uneventful as Louis tries to remember if it’s the second or the third street on the right, left or right at the traffic lights.

Louis spots Danielle before he realises that he’s made it to the cafe without being lost. She’s waving through the window and Louis smiles brightly, all signs of yesterday’s weariness in him gone.

“Hey,” Louis calls out. “Gotten started without me, did you?”

She looks lovely, the Saturday morning sun painting rays of gold against her cheek. Louis sometimes wonders how a guy like Liam got a girl like her. Usually aloud, and jokingly, but always followed by getting smacked by Liam.

“Just a coffee,” Danielle replies. “And I ordered a hot cocoa for you.”

“You’re truly a gift from the gods,” Louis says, leaning across the table to kiss her hello.

“Oh shut it, you. Besides, consider it an apology for the terrible timing of the baby shower.”

Louis smiles. “Honestly, it was so lovely, and such a nice surprise. I don’t really think an apology is needed.”

“Well,” Danielle says to the waiter approaching their table. “You can just send that back then, since Mr Fussypants here doesn’t want it.”

“Ah-ah-ah, not what I meant. I still want the hot chocolate, thanks, love.”

The waiter looks confused, but brings the drink over in any case and asks for their orders.

“You mind ordering for me this time?” Louis asks Danielle.

“Not at all. He’ll be having the signature sandwich, and I’ll have the Caesar salad, thanks.”

“But I don’t really think sandwiches and cocoa go together,” Louis says with a frown.

“Should’ve ordered for yourself,” Danielle retorts, then smiles to show that she’s kidding. “If you’re like this now, though, can’t imagine what you’ll be like when the little one wants to eat tomatoes and marmalade, or whatever it is that kids concoct nowadays.”

“I’m going to be a brilliant father. I’d bet on it.”

“I’m sure you will be,” Danielle reassures him. “But I’m also sure that your kid will have an _interesting_ upbringing.

Speaking of which, though, you still haven’t told me the baby. Half the people who came in yesterday asked what gender the baby was, and I couldn’t tell them.”

Louis leans back into his chair. “Dunno, actually. Dr Rogers is doing ultrasounds pretty much every other time we go there now, but apparently my baby is a fussy one, and it’s a bit hard to tell. Plus, Harry kind of wants to keep it a surprise.”

He prattles on a bit more about the appointments, and mainly about how Zayn seems to be avoiding the clinic lately, which makes Louis think that things with Lisa haven’t worked out. As a consequence, Liam and Harry have been tag-teaming the appointments. He’s talking about how Harry somehow managed to win over Dr Rogers and now gets a free lollipop every time they visit when their food arrives.

“Speaking of Harry,” Danielle says. “What happened with you and him last night? You seemed awfully cold after going and chatting around the room.”

“What?” Louis says. “No I didn’t. I was perfectly fine.”

He takes a large bite of his sandwich and tries not to make a face when he tastes pickle.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Danielle quips and it would be funny but–

“I just. Zayn said something to me, and Niall too, and it’s just kind of gotten me thinking.” He takes another sip of his cocoa and looks over at the next table, where a toddler is playing with her meal. She has lovely, bouncy curls and a smile that reminds him of movie nights and eggs and toast.

“Thinking about what?” prompts Danielle.

“Oh, never mind about it,” Louis says. “It was nothing really.”

She gives him a look, as if to say _don’t give me that bullshit_ , but Louis just averts his eyes.

He takes the pickle out of his sandwich.

“Fine,” Danielle sighs, letting the topic drop. Or so Louis thinks.

“How’s the baby’s other dad going anyway?” She takes a bite of her salad, and makes a face. Signalling to the waiter, Danielle asks for more dressing.

Louis rolls his eyes because Danielle’s one of the few girls he knows that actually likes their salads to taste like something. Putting down his sandwich, Louis wipes his fingers daintily on his serviette. “You know Harry’s not the _actual_ father, right?”

His response makes her smile, like she knows something he doesn’t, but it's a soft smile rather than a smug one.

“I know, Louis,” Danielle says. “Liam told me when the story came out. But– ”

Danielle’s phone rings then, and she makes an apologetic face at Louis. “Do you mind?”

“Nah,” he says, waving his hand and watching as she chatters into the phone.

“Nope, yep, okay babes, sorry. I forgot. Okay, yeah, no I’ll head over now.”

Drinking the last bits of cocoa in his mug, Louis sets the cup down on the table.

“Sorry Lou,” Danielle says, “but I’ve gotta run. I completely forgot that Liam and I are meant to be going out on a date tonight. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, Dani. Besides, I think we’ll probably have enough time to catch up again once the album is finally released.”

“Three days right? I’m going to the launch party, so I’ll see you then in any case.”

They both get up from the table and Danielle tries to reach for her wallet, but Louis beats her to it.

“My treat,” he says. “Since I didn’t pay last time and I’m pretty sure you’re one of the few people it’s fun to talk pregnancy with.”

She laughs at that, and once he’s paid, Louis links his arm in hers and they walk back to the flats together.

-

Louis resolves himself to not treat Harry any differently from how he would have before the pregnancy, which is pretty much being just as touchy feely, but without the pregnancy-hormone-induced feelings. The decision goes to waste, however, when he gets back and finds that Zayn and Niall have taken Harry out to get baby proofing supplies. The message that tells him this is written right below his own messy writing, and ends in at least six Xs and a smiley face.

He pretends it doesn’t mean more when Harry promises in the post script that he “won’t forget about the lasagne”. Instead, Louis gathers the gifts seated in the corner of the living room and starts ferrying them into his bedroom.

He’s lucky, in a way, that his room was always a bit larger than he’d meant it to be, presents piling beside his bed. The task tires him out and Louis checks the time afterwards only to see that it’s just passing 1:30. He decides to watch TV again and tells himself that Spongebob Squarepants is still quality entertainment, no matter what Harry says when he catches Louis watching it.

-

Later that afternoon, when Louis goes to open the gifts, he finds that he’s gotten all the classics. A few more baby clothes, all gender neutral in green and yellow, a glow-in-the-dark mobile, a couple of baby monitors. There’s also a whole bunch of t-shirts: “Proud Dad”, “Sleep Deprived Parent”, “Baby On Board” and the like.

One gift catches his eye, though, one that reminds him of what Danielle had said about Harry earlier that day. It’s a terribly coloured key chain, dark green background with light orange text and he’s pretty sure it’s Curlz MT, but the message written across it makes his heart catch.

_Anyone can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a Dad._

-

“So we ended up buying the whole set of corner covers in any case, since we always might get another table.”

Harry is chattering away as he stirs the contents of the saucepan on the stove. Louis pretends that he’s paying attention, but really he’s waiting for an opportunity to talk to Harry, because he is a mature adult with feelings and he can deal with them.

“Lou?” Harry says, and Louis shakes his head, realises that Harry’s called his name a couple of times now.

“Yeah, Harry?”

“I said, did you want a taste?” He holds out the wooden spoon he’s been using, a little bit of the sauce on the end.

Louis leans forward and licks the sauce off the spoon. “Mmm, maybe a bit more salt.”

“Do you think?” asks Harry, tasting a bit for himself. “Yeah, maybe. But I was saying, did we want to get a gate for the kitchen area? I mean, the baby won’t be able to walk around for a while yet, but better safe than sorry, yeah?”

“I- uh. Harry, listen,” Louis starts.

Harry’s turned back to the task at hand then, sprinkling some salt into the pan and letting it simmer while he takes out their baking dish.

“D’you think it’s too much then? I mean, it’s fairly pricey, but we’re not exactly struggling here.”

Louis leans back on the counter, not sure about how to start this. He watches the line of Harry’s back as the other boy reaches up to fetch the lasagne sheets from where they sit on the top shelf of the pantry.

“No, we’re not, but um. I was. I was talking to Zayn the other day and, well. Doyoureallythinkit’sagoodideatoraisethebabyherewithyou.”

Louis says the last sentence in a rush, like speaking faster makes it easier for him.

Harry turns around from where he’s been layering the noodles with cheese and the sauces. “I’m sorry, what? Slow down a little.”

“I um. It’s just that. Well, the flat’s not exactly large.”

“It’s not small either.”

“And um. I just thought that maybe. I wasn’t sure if you would want to live with me and the baby once she’s crying all night.”

Louis looks up from where he’s been boring a hole into the floor, and wonders if he can please, please not have Harry look at him like that again. He holds Louis’ gaze for a minute, then turns back to where the pasta’s still sitting.

“Lou, if you want me to move out, you can just say it.” His voice is low, rough and Louis doesn’t want– didn’t want– won’t ever want this. “I get that you were thrust into this and I’m _sorry_ okay. I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me in this.”

The sound of Harry cooking is usually calming, but right now it’s only serving to amplify the silence in the air. It’s when Harry finishes up layering that Louis realises he’s not actually responded, and bursts out with a “No!”

Harry startles at the objection, almost dropping the prepped dish of lasagne back onto the bench. Louis runs a hand through his hair, and thinks that he’s never had so much trouble saying anything in his life, or as far as he can remember, to Harry at least.

“God, no, Harry. I love y– I love having you here. You are the only reason I’m _surviving_ this crazy thing,” Louis says.

Harry bends over to put the dish in the oven, still clearly not looking Louis in the eye. When he’s done, he closes the oven door and fiddles with the settings.

Louis continues to talk. “I just. I thought _you_ wouldn’t want to be here. I– I still don’t get it, you know. Why you’re doing this, and I guess I was trying to give you a way out. I don’t _want_ you to leave any more than I wanted you to be forced into this and I just.”

He sighs in frustration. Harry looks up at the pause and stands in front of Louis, expression unreadable.

“You just what, Louis?”

“I just want to know that you’re still happy. Even with me.”

He’s got his head tilted down again, and Louis’ knows that it’s a sign of his own deference, of defeat and that he probably shouldn’t be baring this much to Harry, but he’s never had anything to hide from the other and he won’t start now.

Even if Zayn’s right, and Harry wants out, or even if he could figure out what Niall was trying to say – Louis wants to give Harry it all.

“You,” Harry says, “are ridiculous.”

Louis looks up at that, blinks. “Excuse me?”

Harry places his hands around Louis’ torso in what would be a hug, except that Louis’ hands still hang by his sides.

“I can’t believe you would even think that,” Harry's saying, his voice tinged with disbelief. “When have I ever not been happy with you? Mate, I thought you didn’t want _me_ around the baby or something.”

It’s Louis’ turn to act surprised now. “I didn’t think you’d even think that. Harry, you’re being my fake-boyfriend and baby daddy for God knows how long. You don’t even get anything out of this. I just. I don't get it.”

Harry still hasn’t let go, and it would make for an awkward moment, except how he now gathers Louis up into his arms. The height difference has Harry’s voice running straight to Louis' ear and when he talks, Louis can feel the vibrations of every syllable.

“I get you. That’s what I get out of this. I get the knowledge that my best friend isn’t been torn to bits by the public for something that will make us all happy. I get the joy of watching your baby grow at every check up. I get to have the greatest kid, and I will get to watch that kid grow up. I don’t care if it’s as your boyfriend, because of publicity, or as your best friend in private.”

Louis realises he’s started to tear up at Harry’s words and concentrates really hard on swallowing the lump stuck in his throat.

“I– ” he starts, but then his voice catches. Harry lets him go a little, but they still stand there, Louis against the kitchen counter and Harry holding his hands.

“Lou, you’re my best mate. Whatever happens, I want to be here for your kid. If that means having a gated kitchen and padded tables, I’ll do it. If it means waking up at three AM to feed the baby, I’ll do it. I would _never_ make you do this alone, and the other guys feel the same.”

“But– ”

Harry cuts him off again. “But nothing, Lou. If, heaven forbid, I was in the same place, tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”

When Louis actually remains silent for a moment, Harry’s face settles into a satisfied expression. “I’m not going to say this is the end of this conversation, ‘cause I know you and how you think. But how about we watch a show while the lasagne cooks, and have a quiet night?”

“Okay,” Louis concedes. He goes off to sit on his favourite side of the couch, grabbing the remote and a box of tissues on the way. Harry stays behind in the kitchen, presumably to make sure the pasta’s actually okay, following Louis into the living room a little later.

“Uh, sorry,” he says, when Harry sits down as well. “About the teary eyes and stuff. It’s just. Emotions and pregnancy and I’m all over the place.”

“I understand, Louis. Just. Don’t think too much of it all, okay? I’m here because I want to be.”

Louis makes a noise of agreement and then turns up the TV, glad to have something mindless to focus on.

“Hey,” Harry says, moving closer to Louis. “Budge up a bit.”

He shifts at that, prods Louis until the latter is pressed up between the side of the couch and Harry’s warmth.

Louis wonders if that’s it, if that’s all they will talk about when it comes to Harry’s arrangement. He’s a bit worried if it is, but at least now, if Zayn asks, he’s given Harry a way out. Or something.

-

Louis’ chewing a bite of the lasagne that Harry cooked when the other boy puts down his fork, wipes his mouth with a serviette. He’s got a pensive look on his face, Harry does and Louis tries not to look like much of an idiot as he gazes up at his flatmate.

“Hey,” Harry says. “What you said earlier, about um. You said _she_. Is that– I mean, did Dr Rogers say you’re having a girl then?”

Louis, in his rush to answer, almost bites his tongue when he swallows.

“Uh,” he coughs. “No, I um. Would it sound stupid if I said I just have this... feeling? Do you get what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, “I kind of do.”

They eat the rest of their meal in relative silence, and it’s different but the same all at once. Though frown lines still press themselves lightly into Harry’s face, mar the smooth skin of his forehead, Louis knows that they’ll be okay, eventually.

-

It’s Monday night and Louis’ standing in front of the mirror, just _looking_ , really. The skin stretching across his stomach is pale and smooth. Before the pregnancy – and it still feels weird to say that, after months of checkups and photos and people talking about it – but before the pregnancy he’d never really seen a baby bump.

He’d known pregnant ladies, of course, and had seen photos and maternity clothing mannequins, but there’s something different about being able to properly see this, the curve of his abdomen trying to accommodate all the changes.

The rest of his body has been changing as well, loathe as Louis may be to admit it. His feet, for one, have swollen, and Harry has insisted that he wear “proper shoes” now, since his Toms apparently aren’t suitable. It was getting cold in any case, Louis insists. His face, too, has changed. Danielle mentioned him “glowing”, and Louis would dismiss it, but he _feels_ different, as if he’s spilling warmth from the inside out.

Louis’ reflection is pinked from his recent shower and he’s probably been staring into the mirror for a good ten minutes when a knock comes on his bathroom door.

“Just a sec, Harry,” Louis calls out, running his fingers over his own jaw. “I’ll be out soon.”

“Nah, just reminding you of the time,” says Harry. His voice is kind of dulled through the walls, but Louis is reluctant to let the warm steam out of the room. “I’ve set out that new suit Sandra bought you on top of your bed, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Louis says, wrapping a towel around his body and pulling open the door.

Harry’s literally standing right outside, their noses almost touching when Louis goes to step out. He stops just in time, though, and the younger laughs a little when he steadies Louis. His hands rest warm on Louis’ shoulders, the skin still a little damp from where his hair has dripped.

His flatmate is already dressed, suit and bow tie as usual, for the album launch party that Syco has organised. Although they’re styled for these events, Louis’ learnt they save time by dressing at home and letting Sandra and her team do touch ups when the reach the event. The line of Harry’s suit moulds to his body well and Louis is aware more than ever of how much they’ve all changed since the band started. Where a young, awkward looking boy used to stand, there’s now a lean, confident guy who’s smiling right at him.

Louis lifts Harry's hands off his own shoulders, and examines the cuff links that hold his sleeves shut.

“Is that a dummy shaped cuff link?” he asks with incredulous laugh.

“I didn’t _buy_ it,” Harry insists. “It was a gift, honest. You know how the fans are.”

Louis scoffs a little, and wanders over to his bed to see what his outfit is for tonight. “Did you really have to wear it, though?”

“I wanted to,” Harry says. When Louis doesn’t respond, he taps Louis on the shoulder, since the other is faced away from him.

Louis spins around, holding up the trousers, his expression a mix of _are you serious_ and _you’ve got to be kidding me_. The slacks that he’s holding are, for all intents and purposes, normal enough, black and with a nice straight crease ironed down the front of each leg. The top section, however, is a little different, an elastic banding replacing what would usually be the fly.

“I’m not _that_ fat, am I?” Louis asks, half-serious. “I mean, I can’t honestly need maternity trousers now.”

“Idunno, Lou. You’ve really only been wearing sweats lately.” The other boy is so clearly trying to hold in a laugh, but Louis won’t stand for it.

“I’m sure my old trousers still fit,” he says, ignoring Harry’s scrunched up eyes and smile. He goes over to fetch them from his wardrobe and puts on some pants before dropping the towel to pull on his old trousers. They’re halfway up his thighs before Louis remembers that Harry’s in the room and tries not to let his embarrassment show. He peeks over to see Harry still giggling a little, phone out in his hand too.

“Turn around, you tosser! And put the bloody phone down.” Louis tugs his old suit slacks on the rest of the way and tries not to show his disappointment when the fly won’t even come close to shutting. His frustration must show on his face, though, because when he looks over his shoulder again, Harry’s stopped laughing at him.

“Lou, honestly. Just put on the new ones. You’ll look lovely still, and you’ll be comfortable.”

“It’s not the look, though,” Louis says, tugging off the trousers and letting them slump into a heap on the ground. “It’s the principle of the matter. I don’t _want_ to just be ‘that pregnant pop star’, you know?”

Harry hmms, as if he’s agreeing, and picks up Louis’ trousers from the ground, folding them carefully. When he’s done, he turns to Louis, who is still standing in his boxer briefs, stubbornly looking at the outfit.

“Honestly, Louis, I think you’re the only one thinking that tonight. I think you look good in any case. And it’s only the label, you know. Us and the boys and a few friends, really.”

Louis puts on a frown, but considers it.

“Look, they even gave you a cummerband, so it’s not as obvious. Sandra knows what she’s doing, so trust our stylist and put the suit on, please.”

“What's the time?” Louis asks, still not touching the clothes.

“Half six, and we need to be there by half seven, so please, Lou.” Harry turns to go, give Louis some privacy and Louis looks up when he hears the door snick shut.

He put the shirt on first, in any case, and tries not to notice how it’s also tailored to his larger stomach. Louis in this state of flux, half resenting and half loving his changed shape, and the suit does nothing to help this. As he tugs on the trousers and adjusts so that everything fits neat and snug on his body, Louis wonders when, or if, he’ll finally be able to accept this all.

-

It’s colder than Louis expects when they get out of the car, but they’re around the side entrance of the building, so he’s alright to shiver and pull his jacket tighter around him. Were they around the front, Louis knows he'd have to put on a smile for the cameras. Harry’s hand is a warm pressure on his back as they rush through to the pseudo-green room for tonight. Danielle and Liam are already there, waiting to head out to the party, having arrived in a separate car. Liam is having his tie fixed by Sandra, since apparently Danielle has given up on him. Niall and Zayn, on the other hand, are lounging out on the couches in the room, apparently already tended to (though Louis wouldn’t have guessed it from the state of Niall's hair).

Once the others spot them, Louis is practically pounced upon, all nerves and excitement. He extricates himself from the pile of limbs to go over to where Liam is still held captive by Sandra.

“Thanks,” Louis starts, “by the way, Sandra my love. I appreciate the clothes.”

“Oh, is that a new suit then?” Liam asks and Sandra tuts, tries to get him to stay still.

“Yes, and Louis here, unlike you, can manage to dress himself. If you’d just _stay still_ we should be done in a sec and I can see how well Louis’ clothes fit.”

She pats down Liam’s tie with an air of finality and turns to look at Louis. “Now, give us a spin.”

Louis twirls around a little theatrically, though still mindful of the way that all eyes in the room are on him. Ending with a flourish and a bow, Louis spreads his hands out as if to say, _so what do you think?_ From where he’s still standing from chatting with Niall, Zayn and Danielle, Harry wolf whistles. Louis blushes and tries not to be too obviously flustered by the attention.

“It looks lovely on you,” Sandra says with a smile. “Though I wish you would fix up your collar.”

With that, she reaches over to adjust his shirt and smooth down some wrinkles. By the time she has finished, Harry and Danielle have sidled up to where Louis is standing and are smiling horribly wide at him.

“You look great, Lou, really,” Danielle says. “I’m loving the sashy thing.”

“Cummerband,” Sandra says, “and it’s a good thing they’re making a comeback, else I would have had a frightful time sorting out his outfit.”

“He looks good in anything, really,” says Harry, and Louis feels himself blush deeper. “Best date of tonight, I think.”

That statement earns him a slap around the head from both Danielle and Liam. It also serves to remind Louis that Harry has a job tonight; they both do in keeping up the pretence of their relationship. It’s been easy in interviews, where they’ve normally just got the one person to convince, but tonight the whole room will be watching them to see how the “couple” is turning out. Louis stomach does a little flip-flop but settles when he feels Harry’s arm wrap around his waist.

“Are you kidding me? He’s practically glowing,” he hears Harry say to Danielle. “I think he gets points for that.”

Louis shushes him, with a smile. “Danielle looks gorgeous as usual, no need to fight. Although I do have to say I think she pulls off the red carpet look a bit better than I do.”

Liam calls him a flatterer at that, tells him to back off his girlfriend, and Louis about to deny it all when Niall interrupts, reminding them that they’ve a launch party to attend.

“Alright boys, are we ready?” Zayn asks and they all nod, huddling around just outside the doorway.

“’S a pretty big deal,” Liam is saying, “but I think we can more than pull this off. We’ve been working on this for ages now, so we just need to show them what we’ve got.”

Louis is waiting for one of them to say “Go Team!”. it feels like a pre-match huddle, but them they’re just pulled into a group hug. Sandra sighs from the corner as they ruin all her hard work, but then they let go and it’s time to walk out.

Danielle’s hand is picked up by Liam and he forms the left end of the line of six, stood next to by Niall on his right. Zayn stands in the middle (and whoever it was that said they don’t plan this out was a _liar_ , because Louis heard Zayn begging to be in the centre this time), and Harry loops his right arm around Louis again to finish off the group. The doors leading into the entrance hall open and they can already see the cameras.

Louis turns to look at Harry and gets a reassuring squeeze to his side when their eyes meet.

“We’ll be great tonight,” Harry's eyes say, and Louis hopes it’ll be true.

-

Louis has made the rounds approximately three times now, which is two more than he would have liked. Thankfully, he’s been able to drag Harry along most of the way, as they’re apparently a package deal tonight. Niall had wandered off maybe half an hour ago, edging his way to the hors d’oeuvres, since there’s actually no sit down course this time around. Zayn went outside for a cigarette break soon after Niall disbanded, and hasn’t been seen since. Neither has one of the servers, but Louis likes to pretend he’s not that observant. Danielle is schmoozing with some of the guests, those she’s either worked with or for, and Louis meant it when he said she looks like red carpet material, her hands wrapped daintily around the neck of a champagne flute and her laugh ringing across the room. Liam, meanwhile, is still talking to the few press allowed inside. Louis himself is stalling from talking to them, since he _knows_ what they’ll ask him about and– no.

They’re talking to Caroline and Olly now, though, and Harry’s really getting into the conversation. He’s not had much time to catch up with Caroline, and as much as it’s played for laughs, Louis knows that the two of them really were close friends. There’s only so many times he can hear stories about the lives of the five of them, though, and he excuses himself from the conversation to go and join Niall over at where he’s pinching the smoked salmon crostinis. Harry gives him a look as he leaves, asking Louis wordlessly if everything is alright, and Louis smiles yes in response, leaves the “mostly” out of his eyes.

Their album, the new one, is playing softly in the background and by the time he reaches Niall, the speakers overhead are gracing them with the musical talents of said boy.  It’s a faster track, and Louis wants to laugh a little, but he’s also proud of it.

“Sounds good, hey,” he says as sidles up to Niall, stealing the food that the other boy was holding. At Niall’s sound of protest, he sighs and gets Niall another. “I’m eating for two, though, so you should be _bringing me_ food.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure it’s only the mate that does that, Louis. And only in like, penguins or summat.”

They both laugh, and lean back against the wall to watch the room in motion. From their vantage point, at the edges of the crowd, Louis can see a little dance floor forming, a few of the younger, more loose guests already out on the floor. Harry is still talking with Caroline, Olly having spotted Rebecca and Matt and headed over for a chat. Louis tries not to think too hard about how many people just want Harry’s– want _their_ attention tonight.

“It’s kinda crazy, don’t you think?” Louis asks after a few moments of silence between them.

“What, that the album is finally out?”

Louis shakes his head, no. “That we’re here at all, really. I mean, did you expect, going into XFactor, that this’d be us in a few years time?”

Niall smiles at that. “Never. I mean, I never would’ve believed you if you’d told me back then that any of this– yeah. Nope.”

Louis laughs at that. “Yeah, no, same here. Especially with all this going on.”

He waves vaguely at his stomach and Niall snorts. “Pretty sure no one saw that coming, mate. But you’re good, right? Like, be honest with me here.”

“I’m– ”Louis starts, then pauses to actually think about it. “I think I’m okay. I’m probably dealing better now than before and you know. Just getting used to it, I suppose. Harry’s a big help, and so are you lot, so that’s good.”

“Yeah, you two seem to be doing well,” Niall says, and Louis mulls it over as he takes another hors d’oeuvre to eat.

The song changes again, to one of their slower tracks on the album, and Louis _thinks_ it’s a bonus track, but he can never keep up with things. In any case, he feels himself swaying slightly to the beat and tries not to be too self-conscious of his voice coming from the speakers. The dance floor has opened up a bit more now, a few couples going out to dance to the song and Louis spots Danielle and Liam slowly dancing on the opposite side of the room. He’s so absorbed in how _in love_ they look that he completely misses Niall’s chatter, and therefore doesn’t realise Harry’s come to talk to them until he pokes Louis in the side.

“May I have this dance?” Harry asks with a bow, holding his hand out like he expects Louis to take it.

Louis laughs a little. “Seriously, Harry? With my two left feet?”

“Yes, really,” replies Harry, voice smooth and a smile touching the corners of his lips. “It’s our song.”

That's a bit of a stretch, Louis thinks, since it’s only really theirs by virtue of having both sung a verse, but Harry seems intent on them dancing.

“But what about Niall here? He needs company.” Louis doesn’t actually have a reason as to why he shouldn’t dance but it feels too intimate, even if he's meant to be Harry’s date.

“Hey you know what,” Niall says, and Louis can tell he’s about to be betrayed. “I’m going to go and see if they have any of those little nibble things, with the stuff, you know. But you two should dance.”

Niall leaves at that, and Louis looks up at Harry to see the other with his hand still held out, waiting. “C’mon, Lou, just this one dance.”

“Told you though, ‘m not a good dancer.”

“You're good enough for me,” Harry says as he pulls him out to the space. People move out of their way immediately and Louis tries not to feel so stupid with the way that he’s fumbling the footsteps. Harry quickly takes the lead though, gets them into a pattern of back-two-three, forward-two-three and Louis can sort of do this, maybe, if he forgets about everyone else in the room. The way that Harry’s hand is strong and warm around his waist is helping with that.

“See,” Harry’s voice rumbles as he pulls Louis closer to pass another couple. “Simple. We’re totally the best couple out here.”

Louis can’t bring himself to deny it, just holds Harry’s hand tighter and tries not to step on any toes, including his own. At one point, he’s pretty sure Harry tries to spin him, but Louis almost falls over and Harry has to catch him. He picks himself back up, though and Harry leads them back into the dance, as much as it can be to a slow pop song. As Louis gets pulled close, he thinks that maybe, maybe this is okay.

By the bridge, both of Louis’ hands somehow end up on Harry’s shoulders and Harry’s on his waist. Their moves slow down and it’s like they’re in some kind of romantic movie, except a million times worse because Louis’ pretty sure those characters don't feel like bursting from the inside out because of one stupid dance. Harry rotates them on the spot, slowly swaying to the beat and Louis tries not to break the moment by pulling a stupid face.

“Thank you,” Harry says into Louis’ ear, and with that the song and dance end and Louis left to hold Harry’s hand as they step out from the middle of the room.

-

The next few weeks are a blur of touring and promotion to Louis. Between doing radio shows to promote the album and signings for the fans, he barely has a minute to appreciate how energetic he is now. When they’d been playing shows at the end of last year, he’d been worn thin, relying on Harry or Liam to keep him on schedule. Now it’s Louis who's bounding around the place, first in the van that ferries them from location to location.

They’re in a radio studio now, headphones perched on each of them while they wait to start singing, and Louis can’t help but bounce his leg upanddownandupanddown. Harry, sitting next to him, notices his fidgeting and presses a hand to his knee, fingers holding on the joint and stilling the motion.

Louis still feels like twitching, but the pressure and weight of Harry’s hand on his leg calms him down some, gives him a moment to just _breathe_. He smiles up at Harry when the younger boy strokes his leg, and then the opening notes of their first single from the album are playing, acoustic guitar echoing through the headphones.

As much as the interviews and questions and lines of fans might get repetitive at times, Louis will never tire of this – seeing his bandmates and himself sing for the sake of them, lungs filled with air only to be released as sounds and the vibration of vocal chords when he leans up against Harry while the other sings. Niall and Louis share the habit of pulling off their headphones halfway through, and although sometimes it hinders them, other times it helps to get lost in the music, surrounded on both sides by pure noise.

Louis keeps them on this time, gets into the beat of the song and can’t resist staring a little when Harry launches into the chorus, Liam and Niall joining in on the harmonies. There’s a game that they play, if two or more of the boys aren’t singing at one time – whoever cracks a smile first loses. Louis makes eye contact with Zayn, signals that it’s on and they start pulling faces across the other three. Louis has puffed his cheeks out, and is pulling on his ears, looking like a monkey (and it’s a good thing this appearance isn’t filmed), when he suddenly stops, hands dropping to cover his stomach. Zayn stops playing, having almost missed his cue to start singing and so doesn’t notice it. No one does, really, Louis left sitting there, mouth open slightly in surprise and hands still perched on top of his belly, until he _actually_ misses his cue to start singing.

An awkward beat of silence ensues, but Liam is on task enough to take over the pre-chorus while nudging Harry to check up on Louis. The other boy is already on it, trying to communicate silently with Louis, eyes searching for what the other boy has stopped for. Louis says nothing though, not in words or in his eyes, but rather picks up Harry’s hand with a small smile and places it on his stomach.

Harry is bewildered for a moment, not understanding and then - he feels it. It’s nothing like he'd expected, not the sharp movements that the word “kicking” implied, but rather a rumbly, pokey feeling. He doesn’t really know how to react, except maybe with the same awestruck expression that Louis has on his face now.

It’s a weird sensation, to feel the movement under the skin and know that it’s not Louis’ stomach rumbling but rather the baby – to feel her moving.

Of course, that’s when Louis remembers that they’re actually in the middle of something here, that the other boys are still singing, except that they’re now giving _Harry_ weird looks. Louis takes his mic from where it’s been resting on its stand and joins in at the last chorus, smile crinkling his eyes as Harry is still lost in feeling the baby move.

When the guitar stops and they've been okay’d to start talking, Liam, Niall and Zayn all rush over, crowding around Louis and asking what happened.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down boys,” Louis laughs and Liam pauses, hand halfway to Louis’ forehead, immediately assuming some sort of illness. Niall has his hands on Harry, actually, trying to push the other boy out of the way and see what the fuss is. Zayn is stood back the furthest, keeping his distance from it all, but there’s a smile in his eyes like he knows what this is (and he probably does).

“Lou, seriously,” Liam says. “What happened there?”

“I’d like to know too,” interjects Paul, and the four other boys part to let Louis see their manager talking. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” says Louis. “Great, in fact.”

Harry still hasn’t said anything, nor have his hands left Louis’ stomach and so the older boy elbows him lightly, gets his attention. “I think Harry can tell you.”

“The baby,” Harry smiles. “Our baby is kicking.”

The chatter starts again, Niall ridiculously excited and Liam with wide-eyes and Zayn almost reverential. It is Harry that Louis chooses to focus on, though, Harry who watches him and keeps his hands on Louis’ stomach even though the baby has stopped moving now. Louis lets his hands cover Harry’s and lets himself take in this moment.

-

They’re waiting at the clinic, and it’s Harry’s birthday, but the boys have let them out for the day, Niall not-so-quietly whispering to Louis that at least now they have time to deck out the flat for Harry's birthday dinner. It's a little boring sitting there, and Louis sees Harry skimming through all the magazines, most a little outdated now. Harry finds them interesting nonetheless, snorting at one article and bumping Louis’ shoulder to get his attention and point out yet _another_ article with photos of them entering this very clinic.

Louis smiles and wonders if he’s always been this easily pleased by Harry. He decides that, yeah, he probably has and wriggles a little in his seat to get his phone out and sit a little more comfortably. He lets his twitter feed load, and once it’s clear that most of their fans are tweeting to Harry, Louis decides to join in.

He types out a quick message, looking up to see Harry staring.

“What’re you up to then?” Harry says.

“Check your twitter feed,” is all Louis says in reply and he watches as the other boy fishes out his own phone.

Leaning over his shoulder to read Harry’s screen, Louis watches as his tweet pops up on Harry’s phone straight away, the other boy apparently having gotten email notifications for Louis.

“happy bday to @harry_styles. you’re the best support I could have thru all this. xx”

Harry doesn’t look up for a while, types a bit then notices that Louis is still watching.  Harry’s fingers pause over his keys and when he turns his screen away, Louis prods his side and asks, “Well?”

“Well, I can’t write a reply with you watching, now can I?” Harry says, tearing his eyes away from his phone to look at Louis, face carefully schooled into a smile.

Louis laughs at that. “’Course you can, go on. I’m gonna see it in a mo’ anyway.”

“Not a chance,” Harry says and sensing that Louis’ not about to give up, he saves it as a draft and tucks his phone away. Louis makes a sound that resembles _hrmph_ and Harry just rolls his eyes, picks up a magazine again.

Louis tries to see if pouting will make Harry budge, write his reply in front of him, but the other boy remains pokerfaced as they sit there. He’s got to admit, Harry’s holding up better than he would under such situations, and Louis’ actually curious to see what the other boy will post in reply.

Of course, most thoughts of Harry’s tweets leave his mind when the receptionist on duty (and Louis hasn’t seen Lisa working while he's there since Zayn and her... fell through) calls them through to Dr Roger's office.

“Well, come on Lou,” Harry says, already standing with his hand held out to Louis. “We’re on the home stretch now.”

-

“It looks like we’re all good here, Louis,” Dr Rogers says as he clears away the ultrasound machine and the nurse wipes the gel off of Louis’ stomach.

“Good, ‘cause that stuff is still bloody cold,” Louis grumbles and Harry and Dr Rogers laugh at his expense.

“Ah, we’ve only got four and a bit months to go in any case,” says Harry and Dr Rogers nods.

“You’re in good health, Louis, your weight gain has been in the normal range, and our latest scans have shown that your baby is happy and healthy. You’ve reported movement, yes?”

“Yeah,” Louis says. “Just a bit of kicking and such, nothing too bruising but I think the baby is excited to be born.”

“Speaking of.” Dr Rogers takes a seat behind his desk and motions for the two of them to sit down, steeples his fingers and peers over at them.

“Usually we don’t plan these things until further into the pregnancy, but considering your schedule and your sex, I think it would be time to talk delivery methods.”

Louis nods at this, but his face must look a little tense, because Harry reaches over and gives his hand a squeeze.

“Now, the normal procedure for male pregnancy involves a scheduled Caesarean section. Had this been a vaginal birth, your due date would be the 22nd of June, and so I was hoping to put you in for around that date, schedule permitting.”

“That should be alright,” Louis says. “Though I’ll probably have to check up with Uncle Si first.”

Dr Rogers continues. “Well, until you do that, I thought we should go over the basics of the procedure. The surgery itself should take maximum sixty minutes to perform, but there are the preparations for surgery to consider.

We’ll have you come in for scans, blood tests and a general health check the week beforehand. Medicines, blood thinners especially, we’ll keep you off for the time being.”

He pauses and watches Louis for a moment. “It’s a lot to take in, I know.”

“I think I just. I need a moment.”

“Well, we don’t need to delve into the finer details until later, but I thought it a good opportunity.”

“No,” Louis says, a hint of confidence to his voice. “I need to do this and– well, better now than later, right?”

He turns to Harry, realises that the other boy hasn’t let go of Louis’ hand. “Right,” Harry says. “Did you want me to stay for the rest of this or?”

Harry trails off and darts his eyes to Dr Rogers, tries to see what the older man thinks.

“It’s often good to have someone around to talk about this,” the doctor says. “But it’s up to Louis to decide.”

“No, it’s fine,” Louis says. “I know how queasy you can get when it comes to things like this.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s you,” says Harry, but it’s a feeble protest at best, and Louis just smiles softly.

“Go on, I’ll meet you outside in a few.”

Harry nods tightly and says his goodbyes to Dr Rogers. When they shake hands, Louis acts as if he doesn’t notice the sweets slipped to Harry and waits for Dr Rogers to settle in his seat again.

“Well, Doc, tell me all about it.”

Dr Rogers almost cracks a smile at that, and pulls out a folder from his top desk drawer. “I’ve compiled a number of pre-Caesarean documents that I’ve found other expectant parents have used prior to their operations.”

He passes the folder over and Louis opens it. Inside are a number of brochures, covering everything from pre-operative procedure to pregnancy following the procedure.

Lifting that one up, Louis raises an eyebrow at Dr Rogers. The man shrugs.

“It’s a viable future, and I wanted to cover all bases with you, Louis. You’ll see there’s also information about afterwards – scarring and such – inside the file, and a calendar for the next six months. We’ll want to schedule everything as soon as possible.”

“I think I can do that, yeah.” Louis is still fixated on the jumble of documents inside the folder. He has to stifle a giggle at some of the ridiculous cartoons and terrible fonts, but the actual content seems useful.

“Louis, I also have to ask you– how is your home life?”

“Perfect,” Louis says. “And yours?”

Dr Rogers ignores the question. “I trust your young man will be there when you come out of surgery then. The incision will be transverse, across your abdomen, and will likely be initially closed by staples. No heavy lifting for at least six weeks afterwards, though we should be alright to dismiss you from hospital in two to three days. No vigorous exercise either, since your body _will_ need time to heal.”

“No doing anything then, I get it.” Louis is still yet to put down the file, though Dr Rogers is politely ignoring the lack of politeness. Louis likes to think he has that kind of effect on people.

“Harry should be there when you come out of surgery, though he may accompany you in, if you wish. The anaesthetist will administer a local anaesthetic, so that you can be there when your baby is born.”

He stops again, and Louis looks up this time. It’s one thing to think that he’ll have a baby, but the idea that he is going to be awake while people cut him open–

“You shouldn’t feel any pain,” Dr Rogers says, registering the obvious distress that has appeared on Louis’ face. “We’re committed to having the best team work with you, and I can vouch for Dr Doore as a more than competent anaesthetist.

I've been told that it’s wonderful to be able to hold your baby soon afterwards.”

“I’m not sure if that’s worth being awake for it though," Louis says. "I just. I’m not a big fan of scalpels.”

“I don’t think many are,” replies Dr Rogers drily. “But rest assured, you will be in good hands. You’re not likely to see much in any case, and this is why I suggested having Harry in with you. It’s often helpful to have the partner there to support you.”

Louis makes a noise of agreement and doesn't think about the lie.

“Harry’s always pretty good about that, yeah.”

“That’s settled then, Louis. I think I’ve covered all the bases here, though we’ve still quite a number of checkups in the lead up to your due date.”

They both get up from their seats, Louis with a firm grip on his folder. Dr Rogers extends his hand and Louis shakes it. There’s no sweet, and Louis is mildly disappointed.

"If you pass on your managements details to Zoe out front, she should be able to sort out the date for the Caesarean section.”

“Thanks Dr Rogers,” Louis says. “I– um, I appreciate what you’re doing.”

“’s just my job,” he replies, but Louis can tell there’s some affection there. Maybe.

-

After a quick chat to Zoe (Lisa’s actually down with the flu, but will be back during their next scheduled check up), Louis finds Harry in the entrance hallway, phone out.

“How’d it go?” Harry manages to say without even looking up. “Oh, and you’re not as ninja as you think you are.”

Louis hrmphs. “It went okay, I suppose. Freaking out a little about the surgery though.”

“Oh?” Harry says, looking up at that. “D’you wanna tell me about it?”

“Nah," says Louis. “Though maybe you can help me read through these?”

He brandishes the folder and Harry smiles. “Of course. It can be reading to the baby, too. Heard that helps with their mental development.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Louis says. “What’re you up to then? Is the car not here yet?”

Harry shakes his head. “Texted ahead and they said maybe another five minutes. Twitter’s blowing up right now.”

“What?” Louis says and moves to pull out his phone. He realises that Harry already has his out, though, and saves himself the trouble by pinching his mate’s.

“Oi,” Harry says, but he’s only mildly annoyed, so Louis opens up the Twitter app and checks the trends first.

Right up there with #umbrellaweather and #needapint are a number of trends that make Louis smile. #HappyBirthdayHarry is right at the top and Louis lets out an honest to God guffaw at #LarryStylinsonDILFs. #TOOCUTELOUIS is also trending in the UK and he feels a little smug about commandeering three of the top trends for the moment.

“Have you seen it then?” Harry says, interrupting his reverie.

“Seen what?” Louis says, and his face turns into a frown of concentration as he picks through Harry’s feed.

“My reply, of course.”

Louis almost sprains a finger in his rush to return to Harry’s actual page and his friend laughs.

When he gets to the page, Louis has to remind himself that the clenching feeling in his chest is one of affection, not something much, much deeper.

Harry tweeted at Louis, his first and only tweet of the day so far, while he was in with Dr Rogers, and it has already gotten over three thousand retweets and four thousand favourites.

“Really?” Louis says, as he turns the phone to Harry. “You could have at least put two Xs. I did.”

Harry laughs, the screen showing his tweet: “Louis_Tomlinson I love being here for you. always. thank you, x.”

“Shut up, you love it.”

A car pulls up in front of the clinic, and a quick check shows that it’s their ride home.

“Yeah,” Louis says as he pulls Harry into his side and they walk outside. “I kind of do.”

-

They come back to the flat and Niall’s party is. Well, it's pretty much what Louis expected from the lad, booze and some good comfort food for them all. Harry seems to enjoy it, though, and Louis is pretty much happy if he is.

More than enjoy it, he’s pretty much taken this chance to get crash hot drunk with Zayn and Niall. Of course, Liam and Louis refrain, Louis for the obvious reasons (and there’s a joke about Niall's growing beer gut and Louis’ bump somewhere) and Liam because–

“Well, someone here has to act sensibly, right?”

Louis laughs from where he’s snuggled up under Liam’s arm. Liam is lounging on the couch, spread out like there’s not another person who’s trying to fit on there, while the other three quibble over who will be forced to sit on the ground. In the end, Harry gives up, despite being the birthday boy, and lies on the ground at Louis’ feet, head resting on the older boy’s knee. On the opposite couch, Niall and Zayn have arranged themselves into a sort of boypile, if one can be made from two boys and an unknown quantity of pillows.

Harry is properly relaxing for once, and it’s nice being the five of them without being the five-of-them-from-One-Direction. Being the five of them means cake, but without having cameras around to watch as they smear frosting on each other. It means being able to shovel their mouths with food, but without being papped and looking ridiculous in the pages of gossip mags. It means a night in, without it being “avoiding the fans”.

It also, apparently, means Harry is more comfortable to press his hands to Louis' stomach in front of the others.

“Can you feel anything, then?” Liam asks, and Louis scoffs.

“’Course I can, you idiot. Harry’s fingers are bloody cold.”

Liam shakes his head and laughs a little. “I meant, can Harry feel anything.” The “duh” is implied.

“No,” says Harry. “But it’s like. Nice to know that the baby’s there, right? Reassuring or something.”

“Do you mind if–?” Liam’s question trails off, but his hand is hovering above Louis’ stomach, making his arm stretch over the expanse of Louis’ torso. Louis’ all for it, and nods his agreement, but apparently Harry has other ideas.

The boy bats Liam’s fingers away from the smooth curve of Louis’ stomach and the other boys laugh, because they knew that drunk Harry was very affectionate, but he’s never been jealous.

“It’s okay, Harry, since it’s your birthday anyway, you can have free reign with talking to my baby for tonight.”

Louis means it as a joke, of course, building on the younger boy’s fascination with keeping the baby (and it’s not even born yet) to himself, but Harry takes him seriously. Shuffling up from where he’s been leaning against the couch and Louis, Harry comes to rest his head against Louis’ stomach and starts mumbling words against the fabric of Louis’ tee.

On the other couch, Louis’ eye is drawn to how Zayn whispers something in Niall’s ear, and they both laugh. Looking up at Liam, he has a twinkle in his eye too, and Louis tries to figure out what’s so funny but he can’t really. He’s too distracted by the way Harry is playing a convoluted form of Chinese whispers and relaying what’s going on in their lives to the baby.

At this point, someone switches on the TV and he thinks it must be Liam, because they skip straight to Nickelodeon (Niall tries to make them stop on a horror movie channel, but Zayn promptly hits him with a pillow, so that idea is quashed).

It’s drawing close to the end of a Spongebob episode when Louis realises that Harry’s stopped talking and started snoring lightly. It’s sweet, if you can call being nuzzled by a dozing drunk sweet and Louis can’t bear to shove Harry off him yet.

“Think we should call it a night, boys,” Liam is saying, and Louis looks up to see him talking to Zayn and Niall. “Pretty sure the birthday boy is out for the count right now.”

There are mumbles of agreement from the other two, and slowly, they extricate themselves from the grasp of the second couch. Liam almost goes to stand up, but then realises that shifting would require Louis to move, which would require Harry to get up for a bit. He has a bit of a panicked look on his face, because Liam of all people knows what it’s like to be in a mood when first woken up.

Louis smiles, though. “’Sokay,” he says. “I’ll take it from here.”

He nudges Harry’s shoulder softly with his hand and leans down so that he can speak quietly to Harry.

“C’mon Harry, gotta get up now. Gotta get you to a bed.”

Zayn snickers from where he is in the hallway, trying to pick out which set of keys on the table is actually his.

“Don’t wanna,” Harry mumbles, and Louis tries to remember it’ll be good practice for when his daughter grows up.

“Liam’s gotta sleep too, and he can’t if we don’t get off him soon.”

Harry might have cracked a joke about getting Liam _off_ , except Louis; ignored it in favour of pulling the younger boy to his feet, since he’s awake enough now to be moving. Liam mouths a quick “thanks” to Louis and motions, _do you need some help carrying him to his room?_

Louis shakes his head. “I’ll be fine, you know. He’s not that big anyway.”

Liam takes his word for it, and follows Niall and Zayn out the door, keys already tucked in his pocket and a “good night” said to all.

Trying to ignore the way that Harry’s feet are dragging on the ground (and it’s not Louis’ fault he’s not as tall as the others), Louis manages to haul Harry into his own room. The younger boy is dead weight, but somehow still mumbling to Louis. When Louis dumps Harry onto the bed, he pries off his trousers and jumper, to make the younger boy more comfortable, then pulls the sheets up. Just as he’s about to turn and leave, though, Harry grasps his wrist in a way that belies his sleepiness.

“Stay with me,” Harry says. “Please? ‘M tired.”

And the thing is, Louis’ dying to stay in his own bed, where there’s no conflicting thoughts or confusing people, but he’s also a sucker to Harry’s sleep-slow voice.

Instead of replying aloud, he just lies down onto the bed next to Harry and lets the other boy pull him in close.

“Thanks, Lou,” he says and Louis thinks about how they haven’t done this in a while, haven’t curled into one another like there is nothing between them (because there’s not, not usually. No secrets or lies or feelings that weren’t aired out). It’s new and old at once, familiar and unfamiliar like an old jumper, loved then lost then found years later.

Harry’s hands have always pulled him in by the waist, but the feel new in how they span Louis’ bump and curl around the curves of his shape. He’s always smelled of the same boy and musk and clean, but Louis knows it hasn’t always been this constant. He swears that there was a time that Harry only hogged the sheets when they slept, and didn’t take up the whole room with his presence.

So it’s something old and something new, but it’s also the darkest blue of night, so Louis lets it go and sleeps.

-

When they wake up, it’s just another day.

(Except how Louis burns the toast and the new smoke alarm goes off. Harry’s only response is that at least they’re _fully_ awake now, and they know it works, and he starts pulling out the ingredients for his killer pancakes.)

“D’you ever forget how old we are?” Louis asks. He’s watching Harry putter around the kitchen, looking like a proper adult or something. Louis supposes that that's what they are, but it still feels strange.

“I’m 19 now, aren’t I? And you’re 21.” His voice is slightly muffled from where he’s peering into the cupboard. “Also, I don’t think we have syrup.”

“Really? Could’ve sworn I saw some next to the peanut butter. But like.”

Louis pauses to scratch an itch that has developed on his side. “I don’t _feel_ 21.”

“And I don’t feel 19, with the way that I’m carrying this household,” Harry jokes.

Louis rolls his eyes at that, and tugs his own shirt down where it has rucked up.

“Still can’t find the syrup then?” he asks Harry and pushes past him to look in the pantry too.

There actually isn’t enough room to fit Harry _and_ the baby bump in the cupboard, so Louis ends up squishing Harry against the cupboards and Harry starts squriming to duck under and out from Louis’ grasp.

“You’ll have to go out and buy some,” Harry says then and Louis pouts. “Honestly, I’m not even the one who eats pancakes with maple syrup.”

“Yeah, but at least I’m not a weirdo who puts that much lemon juice on them.”

As much as he’s protesting though, Louis heads into the living room and picks up a hoodie that’s lying on the couch and pulls it over his head. He’s long forgotten who it _actually_ belongs to, but the jumper is warm and doesn’t stretch _too_ badly over his stomach, so he reckon he’s okay to pop down to the corner shop to buy the breakfast stuff.

“It’s not my fault you can’t appreciate fine dining,” Harry says and he sets out the flour and sugar on the bench top. “Can you get some eggs while you’re out too? ‘M wallet’s on the table.”

Louis smiles and picks up Harry’s wallet. He picks out a couple of notes, and it’s not that he’s cheap or anything but – well, he’s too lazy to go and get his own money.

Just as he’s closing the wallet, though, he spots a small photo sticking out of one of the card slots, the edges bent slightly as if it’s been taken out and shoved back in again. He checks to see that Harry’s still engrossed in collecting ingredients (he’s currently searching for the buttermilk in the fridge, and Louis wonders when they started having things like buttermilk in their flat) and tugs out the picture from where it’s lodged.

It’s not actually a photo, Louis realises, but instead one of the print outs that they got at Louis’ last last appointment with Dr Rogers, an ultrasound of the baby. She barely looks like a blob in the image, but Louis doesn’t like to admit he needs to be pointed out which end is the head. Still, it’s clear enough that it’s Louis’ baby in the picture and–

He feels a little wrong footed, like he’s missing something here. Instead of saying anything to Harry, though, Louis tucks the photo back into the wallet and calls out to him.

“I’m– hey, Harry, I’m gonna head out now, ‘sthere anything else we need?”

Harry shouts out an _a-ha!_ and pulls out the carton of buttermilk from behind the tomato sauce and mayonnaise bottles. “Found it!”

“Good, good,” Louis replies and he checks the pocket of his sweatpants for his phone. “But did we need to get anything else?”

Swivelling around from where he’s been grabbing the measuring cups, Harry eyes Louis. “You need to get some more clothes on you, actually. There’s no way you’re going out in only sweatpants and a hoodie.”

Louis sighs. “You really _do_ act like the head of this house. I’m _fine_ , Harry, really.”

“No way,” Harry replies. “You know Dr Rogers’ll kill me if you catch the flu. Hold on to this for me.”

He passes Louis the assortment of kitchen utensils he’s holding and dashes into his room, since it’s the closer. Emerging with a range of hoodies, scarves and coats, he dumps the pile in the living room. Louis watches as Harry sorts through the clothes and brings them into the kitchen.

It’s been unseasonably cold, for mid-winter even, but Louis doesn’t think it warrants how much Harry’s got for him to wear.

For some reason, though, Louis still finds himself toddling out of the flat wearing more clothes than is strictly necessary, Harry’s laughter ringing in the kitchen.

-

The next day, his mum calls up and congratulates Louis on making the front page of four, count them, four major newspapers for his little stint out to buy syrup, and Harry laughs his arse off at the photos they took. Louis looks like he’s positively swimming in the clothing, layers and layers of jumpers and scarves and the beanie that Harry had shoved on at the last minute as Louis had come back in to grab his keys.

“Were the pancakes nice then?” she asks and Louis can _hear_ the laughter in her voice.

“Brilliant,” Louis replies, a little drolly. “Harry’s a right chef.”

Harry kicks him with the feet he’s got lodged under Louis’ thigh as they sit on the couch. Though he’s mostly engrossed in playing Mario Kart with Liam (and Louis wonders why they bother with the pretence that they’re playing someone else on the network when Liam always texts Harry to check that he’s online), Harry is still paying some attention to Louis’ conversation.

“But really, sweetie, how are you going?”

“’M good, mum, really am. It’s... nice, I suppose, knowing that I’ve only got a few months to go.”

Louis pulls the jumper closer around him, debates zipping it up. “Dr Rogers has me scheduled in for my next few checkups, but said it’d pretty much be smooth sailing from here on in.”

“That’s good to hear, Lou,” she says. “Oh wait, your sisters want to talk to you for a sec– hold on girls, I’ll give you the phone if you just _wait_ – ”

Louis laughs at that and has to pull the phone away from his ear when the girls scramble to hold the phone, yelling a bit and generally sounding like the ruckus that they are.

“LOUIS!” and it’s his eldest younger sister whose voice cuts through the hubbub. “How’s the baby?”

He smiles and brings the phone back to talk to his sisters. “The baby’s good, yeah. She’s coming along nicely and behaving well. Are you doing the same for mum there?”

“Yeah, no, we totally are!” and they sound like some sort of chorus coming through. “Mum says you’re gonna have the baby soon, though, yeah?”

“In June, actually, but yeah, soon enough.”

Harry quirks an eyebrow at that.

“Well, it feels like soon, you know,” Louis saying and its half to the girls and half to Harry. “But I’m excited. Are you guys ready to be aunties?”

And then it’s basically a mess of noise until he hears his mum tug the phone back from the girls. “Sorry, Louis, you know how they can get.”

“It’s fine, mum, honestly. I miss you all so much. And I hope you’re okay, yeah?”

His mum makes a noise of agreement. “We’re fine, sweetie. I’m just. I miss you too. Will you come to visit with the baby then?”

“I’ll come before then, if we have time,” Louis promises and that’s pretty much it for proper conversation on their parts.

“Tell Harry I say hi, okay, love?” Louis’ mum says, and Louis mouths out a _she says hi_ to Harry, who smiles in response. “And the other boys, of course.”

“He says hi, too,” replies Louis. “And I’m sure Zayn will be really cut that he doesn’t get his own special hello.”

She laughs properly at that and Louis’ glad that even the distance doesn’t mean they can’t make each other laugh.

“Well, tell Liam, and Zayn, and Niall that I love them all. And you, of course.”

“Love you too, mum.”

He hates hanging up, so Louis waits until his mum puts down the phone and he tugs the jumper warmer around him as he watches Harry on the couch for a bit.

“D’you ever miss your mum then?” Louis asks and it feels like it should be a stupid question, but Harry never makes him feel like that.

“All the time, like mad. My whole family, really.”

Louis’ never been more glad that they all understand each other and smiles, before going to press buttons over Harry’s shoulder and make him fall off the edge of the track.

-

A week later, Louis and Zayn are lounging in the living room of the latter’s flat, Louis having been banished from his and Harry’s flat as Liam and Niall and Harry move the furniture around. It’s really not Louis’ fault he keeps bumping his shins on his bedside table now that he’s always getting up at night to pee, but apparently the flat needs to be “Louis-proofed” as well as baby-proofed.

Zayn’s put on some pseudo-indie music, a mishmash of hip-hip and rock and maybe something synth-y, but Louis puts it down to the fact that the mix is from someone’s 8track and runs his fingers through Zayn’s hair.

“You don’t miss smoking then?” Louis asks, and it’s something he’s been meaning to ask Zayn. Louis feels a little like this whole scenario as changed them, but he’s just not sure if it’s for the better or the worse.

“A little,” Zayn admits. “I mean, ‘sbeen a while, yeah? But it was pretty hard for a couple of weeks there.”

Louis’ fingers drag over his scalp and Zayn nudges up into the touch.

“But it’s good, I guess?” Zayn says and it’s half a question. “I mean, ‘s pretty good for my voice box and lungs and whatnot.”

“It’s probably not good for your game though, right?”

“Eh,” Zayn says. “Doesn’t make a difference as far as I can see. And I’d rather you have a happy kid than me have... whatever.”

They settle into silence then, and it’s nice to know that they’ve not got anything on right now, that they’re really okay to be like this.

-

Liam calls them back to Louis and Harry’s flat at around midday, Zayn scrambling up from where he’s been lounging, head in Louis’ lap. It’s probably a testament to Harry’s cheese toasties that Zayn is getting up at all, since the two _not_ clearing up the other flat were close to asleep.

As it is, Louis wanders in a good two minutes after Zayn arrives, a little worried that Niall will have eaten his sandwich too, but Harry’s set aside a plate for him and Louis thanks Harry with a squeeze to the shoulder.

“So are we all done here then?” Louis asks, sitting down at the table. The flat itself doesn’t look much different, really. The tables have been pushed to the walls and corners, though, and the trip hazard that was Harry’s gaming area has been cleared away.

Swallowing the bite from his sandwich, Niall puts the toastie down and pauses to reply. “Pretty much, actually. We’ve gotten everything out now, the corner covers and the sockets, and yeah.”

“We still need to set up the cot, though, and the bassinet, in your room,” Harry interjects.

Zayn snorts. “Good luck getting any sleep then, mate.”

Louis just smiles at that. “I’m pretty sure I’ve learnt to deal with young kids waking me up at night, Malik. We all don’t need as much beauty sleep as you.”

Luckily for Louis, Zayn has the decency to pretend to be offended. “’M pretty sure you need it most right now, actually.”

“Boys, stop fighting. We all know it’ll be Harry who’ll be having the least amount of sleep once the baby’s born. He’ll probably be too clingy to let either of the Tomlinsons go.”

It’s Harry now who’s offended at Liam, and the table almost degrades into a regular Year One slap fight, until Niall breaks it up to steal the cheese toasties abandoned on Zayn and Harry’s plates.

“Oi!” Harry says, and he tries to get it back on the principle of having cooked them.

Niall retaliates by shoving the bread in his mouth before Harry can even try to snatch it back and that’s the end of that.

“You’re all brats,” Zayn complains, and he stands up to fetch them all some drinks. Louis gets up to help him, considering the other three have been pulling more than their own weight all morning.

“’S a good thing you’ve got a pretty big flat then,” Zayn says as he pulls out the glasses from the cupboards. “Can stay in here a bit longer, yeah?”

“Mate, I’m pretty sure my kid is going to grow up popping in and out of you three’s flats.”

“Nah, I give it six, maybe nine months before the three of you are moving out.”

He’s at the fridge by then, using the dispenser in the door to get them all ice and water, before passing the glass to Louis.

“The three of us?”

From the kitchen, Louis can see how Harry is trying to sneak the other half of Louis’ toastie from his plate and it feels a little bit like home.

“Well, you, Harry and the baby, right?” Zayn says and he picks up the final glass. “I mean, it’s not like he’s leaving any time soon.”

It’s such a complete 180° from what Zayn had said at the baby shower that Louis’ left speechless for a second, at a loss for what to say, but then there’s no need to, since Zayn passes Louis the last drink and directs them both back to the table, just in time to see Harry scarf down Louis’ food.

-

By the time Louis is able to talk to Harry about their supposed semi-permanent cohabitation, they’re sat back for the day, spread out across the couches in their living room. Niall, Liam and Zayn had left unceremoniously once the food had disappeared and amongst shouts of “Traitors!” from Louis and “Love you too!” from Harry.

The new positions of the furniture mean that Louis is actually able to reach the table from his seat _and_ keep an eye on the telly at the same time, except that Harry’s got some sort of news programme on and Louis wants to talk about the flat.

He shuffles himself backwards on the couch so his back is up against the arm rest, legs still stretched out along the length of it, and proceeds to pick up one of the cushions and throw it at Harry to get his attention.

Instead of it hitting him in the face, Harry manages to catch the cushion and turns to Louis. “Reflexes, Lou. Never underestimate mine.”

Louis pouts a little, but then realises he has Harry’s full attention now, and launches straight in to the conversation. It’s a new strategy that he’s been trying to employ, since his memory is like a sieve nowadays.

“So I was wondering,” he starts, “what’ll happen when she’s older.”

“Well, she’ll get bigger, generally, and maybe a bit smellier if you forget to change her often.”

Screwing his nose up at the thought, Louis says, “Not that, Harry.

Like, when she’s too big to stay in her cot and I’ve got to have room to change without scarring my toddler.”

“Oh,” Harry says and he grabs the remote to turn the volume down. “Like, actually? I hadn’t thought about it yet.”

There’s silence for a little while, Louis trying to figure out what it means for _them_ (for him and Harry and, him and Harry and the baby).

“I suppose we can go looking for a new place around June then? It’ll be crazy packing up when she’s so little, but I mean. If we know we’ve got a place it’ll at least take some stress off of you post-birth.”

“I– uh, yeah, I suppose so.” And apparently it’s a given to everyone that Harry and Louis will live together for a while yet, except maybe to Louis. He wonders if he gets a choice in this, or if he even wants one.

In any case, it makes sense for them to stay together so long as the charade holds and Louis tries not to plan when their next “date” will occur. Knowing Harry, the next trip to buy milk from the shops will turn into a picnic in the park. Knowing Harry, he’s got more planned for their future than he lets on, and Louis figures that he’ll have to deal with Harry’s decisions when the time comes.

-

They’re in Doncaster on a warm March day when Louis gets a moment to himself and his mum. Harry’s offered to take the girls out for lunch, and Louis’ mum actually seems glad to have them off her hands for the time being. The other three boys are off with their respective families and Louis wonders if Harry wishes he could’ve gone to Cheshire, rather than pull off the publicity stunt that was them catching the train together (and never again, without someone else, Louis swears it). The way that Harry’s tugged in four different directions by the young Tomlinson girls, though, and his giant smile says otherwise and Louis hopes that it’s not just another item on a list of Things Harry Will Do For Louis.

So it’s just the two of them and standing in his childhood kitchen, Louis tries to remember what it is exactly that he wants to talk about to his mum, apart from everything ever.

“I heard that you and that Harry of yours are still not planning a wedding,” she says and it’s like his mum is specifically picking out the topics he wants to avoid.

“I– mum. I have something to tell you, actually, about Harry and I.”

She puts down the bowl of brownie batter she’s been mixing for the past five minutes and nods for Louis to pass her the greased baking dish.

“We’re not– Mum, we’re not actually together, you know.”

His mum just nods as she pours out the batter, scraping out the insides of the bowl.

“Did you hear me? I said Harry and I aren’t actually dating.”

She sighs, and tosses the bowl into the sink, not before swiping off and licking the remnants of chocolaty batter from the dishes. “I know, Lou. Harry told me ages ago.”

Louis sputters a little at that, but then he’s being hip checked and moves away from the oven that he’s been standing in front of.

“If you knew, then why’d you ask if I’d– ”

“For the same reason that Harry always asks me if you’ve noticed yet.”

Louis starts to wonder when his mum and Harry became such fast friends, but then backtracks.

“Noticed what?” he asks.

His mum pushes the baking dish into the oven and sets the timer. Nodding at the dishes, she wipes her hands on the tea towel tucked into her jeans.

“Get started on washing those and I might tell you.”

He would grumble, but Louis feels like this is serious, and picks up the scrubber and washing up liquid to get started.

“So what is it? What have I been so blind as to not see, Mum?”

This is how he deals with things, Louis does. He jokes and cajoles and maybe uses puppy eyes, but most of all, he asks outright.

“Honey, you and Harry may not be dating, but you’re sure as hell acting like it.”

Louis doesn’t stop scrubbing the pan. “Well, we kind of have to. You know. Since everyone thinks we are.”

“Not in private, though, Lou. You don’t _have_ to act like he hung the stars when it’s just the seven of us at Christmas, but you still do.”

And Louis takes a moment to think about if it’s true. If he’s really been making moony eyes at Harry since they last visited Louis’ home-away-from-their-home. Then he takes another moment to rethink that sentence, and figure out when the flat became _their flat_ rather than a place that he shared.

“D’you– I don’t–  ”

“You do, though, Louis.”

“I don’t think it’s like that, Mum, not really.” He’s more hesitant this time though, if that can be possible, and a small part of Louis’ mind finds it really inappropriate to be having such life-changing revelations while there are bubbles threatening to go up his nose.

“Do you love him?” Louis’ mum asks and it’s not – it’s not even a question really. It’s an epiphany for Louis.

Because he does love Harry. He loves his best friend, in that Harry will always be there for him. Loves the way that he is with family, loves the fact that Harry will dive in the deep end of any task if he knows it’ll make someone else happy. Louis loves Harry at eleven at night, coming in to check that Louis is still comfortable, and he loves Harry at three in the afternoon, all but pants-less and playing video games, hair pulled back by a headband.

Louis loves the splay of Harry’s hand across his baby bump and the way that it is really _their baby_ , regardless of his daughter’s parentage. There’s something written in twitter messages and midnight kisses and key chains and ultrasound pictures in wallets.

And oh, God, Louis loves him.

His mum has seemingly clued on to Louis being lost in thought and gently tugs the wooden spoon and scrubber out of his hands. She dries them off then, Louis larger hands in hers and Louis realises that one day this could be him – years older but still taking care of his daughter and he _wants_ to have someone to share that with.

“So have you noticed yet?” she asks him and Louis just nods. Clasping one of her hands between hers, his mum squeezes tight. “It’s not a bad thing, Lou. Before you go off thinking your thoughts– ”

She stops. Pulling him through to the couch in the family room, Louis’ mum sits him and gets him to look her in the eye.

“Louis, sweetie, it’s not a bad thing at all. And I think, if Harry’s been asking me things, that he’s probably cottoned on too. Sooner than you, actually.”

Nodding, Louis tries to figure out the mess of feelings that he’s experiencing right now. At the forefront of it all, though, is the thought of _HarryHarryhowcouldImissthis_ and possibly, probably something called love.

-

The girls come back at half four with a bedraggled Harry and some bags from Topshop and H&M. When asked how their day was, there’s a scramble to tell their mum first about the fans that accosted Harry and the new shirts they got and who ate the most pizza for lunch.

His mate gets a glare for the new clothing, but honestly, Louis’ kind of glad for them to be back. One of his sisters is hanging off his back, and he reminds her to be careful not to kick him when they walk into the kitchen, followed by his mum, Harry and the rest of the girls.

Despite their “massive meals, Mum, honestly, Harry had a pizza bigger than his head”, Louis’ sisters and Harry mysteriously still have room for brownies when they come out of the oven, where they’ve been resting.

Across the counter top, Louis makes eye contact with Harry and it’s – not too different truth be told. Knowing that he’s been interested in Harry for longer than he realises probably helps Louis fashion the smirk that’s on his face that forms when everyone notices half the tray is already gone and that there are still chocolate crumbs around Louis’ mouth.

-

When they get back home, Liam is sitting in their living room, feet propped up on the table and Mario Kart already running on screen. Harry looks torn between collapsing onto Liam or taking the extra ten steps to his bed and collapsing there instead.

Apparently, he chooses the latter, barely managing to drop Louis’ satchel onto the couch before staggering off to the bedroom. Louis thinks he hears a mumbled “don’t disturb me” and makes a quick mental note that Harry will be up at around midnight looking for food.

“’Lo Louis,” Liam says, not tearing his eyes from the screen. “Good to see you’re back.”

“I would say it’s good to see you too,” says Louis as he sits down next to Liam, “but I wasn’t aware you were coming over?”

“Nah, wasn’t planning to, actually. ‘Cept your mum called and said you’d want to talk.”

Sometimes Louis forgets that there are people that know him better than he or Harry does and then his mum comes along and reminds him of everything.

Everything which includes –

“Oh, yeah, that.” Louis drums his fingers on his knee, tries to figure out the best way to tell Liam that he’s kindofsortof in love with Harry.

And the more he goes over that phrase in his head, the more he likes it. During the mess that was “Larry Stylinson mania” and the press tours of the USA that wouldn’t let it drop, Louis’d gotten sick of anything that implied more than friendship between _any_ of the boys but –

There’s something to be said about the past seven months of HarryandLouis and LouisandHarry and Louis’ pregnancy that has turned that mess into an organised chaos. Every moment that they’ve had, catalogued or otherwise, has turned into this for Louis, another reason to stay with Harry and tell him that, yeah, he thinks this is real too.

In the meanwhile, Liam has refocused onto the game, Rainbow Road passing beneath his tyres.

“Liam,” Louis whines and it’s so, so tempting to push his bandmate so that he loses his concentration. “Liam, I remember what I was saying now, it’s important.”

From where he’s seated across the couch, Liam pauses the game and puts down the controller. Turning to look at Louis, Liam sighs. “Okay, what?”

“I’m – I’m in love with Harry.”

It feels like a relief to say it aloud, except Louis figures relief has some negative connotations and all he wants to do is tell everyone this secret. After Harry knows, of course.

Liam’s reaction, though, is anti-climatic to say the least. He raises an eyebrow, as if to say _so?_ and then actually says it. “So? And?”

“I’m in love with my best friend and I want him to have this baby with me.” Louis’ got his hands perched over his abdomen now, and it’s all he can do to not imagine the baby having Harry’s curls, as impossible as it would be.

“He already is,” Liam says and now there’s a hint of a question in his voice.

“For proper, I mean. Like, I want to ask him out, have-my-baby.”

Liam actually stops at that, scratches his head like it’s a difficult concept to understand.

“I– isn’t that– aren’t you already ask-him-out-having-a-baby together?”

And it’s Louis’ turn to be gobsmacked because there’s no way Liam picked up on it before he did.

 “No?!” Louis says incredulously. “I only figured it out today.”

Liam’s running a hand through his hair now.

“Well, that explains an awful lot about what Zayn and Niall’ve been saying.”

Louis nods, and then shakes his head. “Wait, what’ve they been saying?”

“Nothing, really, just that you two needed to figure yourselves out.”

Louis wrinkles his brow at that, and wonders if it’s really possible that he missed it, or that they’d all had a discussion about this without him. Seeing his distress, Liam pulls Louis under his arm, an embrace that wraps around him and lets Liam put his hand over where the baby rests.

“And you?” Louis asks.

“I um,” and Liam laughs a little nervously. “Truth be told, I thought you’d had sorted it out before Christmas.”

Louis actually groans at that, but then starts laughing because –

“Wait, so what’d you think when we went to Christmas dinner with my mum then?”

Liam blushes at that, obviously having misconstrued their “overnight stay”.

Louis lets himself laugh it out, as quietly as he can with Harry in the other room, and then pauses for breath, leaning on Liam.

“And Danielle?”

“I actually don’t know.”

“Have I just been proper-dating Harry for the past five months and no one has filled me in?”

It’s a rhetorical question, pretty much, but Liam nods and Louis figures he deserves the disbelief in his friend’s expression.

“You really have, Lou.”

“Well, can someone help me to tell Harry that I’d like to acknowledge it now?”

Liam takes his turn to laugh now, and prods gently at Louis’ side to make him jump a little.

“All in good time, Lou. Maybe just let Harry sleep for now and talk to him tomorrow?”

Louis nods and presses himself to the side of Liam’s torso. “Sleep, yeah. Sounds good.”

“Not on me!” Liam complains but it’s too late, Louis fitted to the couch and the cushions beneath him.

Liam picks up the controller and un-pauses the game and Louis lets the in-game music lull him to sleep.

-

He has a vague memory of waking up at some point in the night and being helped into his own pyjamas and bed by a sleep mussed Harry and a sleepy Liam.

There are words exchanged in the doorway of Louis’ room and then the shadow of Harry’s body falls across the bed, where the hall light spills into the dark and presses into Louis’ eyelids.

But it’s gone as soon as he wakes up, shrugging on a jumper over his sleep shirt.

Harry’s stood in the kitchen, as per usual, but no coffee in front of him. Instead, he’s got out the syrup again, and Louis spots a packet of waffles next to the toaster.

Coming up behind Harry and wrapping his arms around the younger boy’s torso, Louis mumbles, still half-asleep, “I love you.”

It’s not what he means to say, but it’s not also new to either of them. Somehow, though, Louis still feels like it’s different this time around. Harry must feel it too, though, ‘cause he turns around to be bracketed by Louis arms and the counter top.

“Do you, now?” Harry asks and Louis nods, suddenly shy about it.

“I mean– I– yeah, I do.”

Louis figures it’s now or never, and it’s not like _he_ has much to lose, except maybe everything.

“Okay, then,” Harry replies and Louis feels like it’s an inadequate response.

“Okay? Just, ‘Okay?’” he begins to ask, but then Harry’s hands are moving, shifting from where they’ve been propping him up against the counter, to Louis hips and back and he’s pulling Louis in and pressing their lips together and –

It’s New Year’s Eve all over again, except not. It’s every kiss they’ve ever shared, multiplied by the number of stars in the sky and grains of sand on the beach. It’s thousands of words, hundreds of _I love you_ s and _you’re my best friend_ s. It’s Harry’s lips, softer than he might have expected, except with an undercurrent of _want_ and _need_ and Louis just.

He pulls back for breath and wonders when he got this flustered over a closed mouth kiss.

“I can do ‘Okay’, then,” says Louis and Harry laughs a little. Coming back in to press his lips to Harry’s, Louis smiles in turn. “Yeah, I can definitely do ‘Okay’.”

-

Louis resolves to have a proper conversation with Harry about _them_ at some point, but it’s lost to the kisses that Harry will press into the nape of his neck now, and to the murmurs that he’ll make to their baby.

It’s possible that they don’t need to talk about it at all, Louis figures. When they walk into the next interview already holding hands, no prompting needed, and Harry stroking Louis’ hand the whole way through, Niall’s only reaction is to mouth a _finally_ at Zayn and proceed to direct more than the usual amount of sex jokes towards Harry and Louis.

The paps don’t pick up on much of a difference either, with gossip rag articles dying down as the pictures get more and more mundane. The two of them do, however, have a field day wearing the same jacket and beanie combination as they go out over a couple of weeks, the idea copied straight from a certain British actor. When all the photos across the first three weeks of April look the same, Paul calls up and asks them to stop, if not for the sake of their clothes getting gross, then for that of their styling team.

Dr Rogers and his team have him coming in every other week now, and he’s met Dr Doore, who is much better at assuaging Louis’ fear of being awake than he expected her to be. It also probably helps that Dr Doore looks like a cross between the most maternal person Louis knows and the most intelligent. At some point, Harry became the only one tagging along to the appointments and when they’re sat at home, the five of them conference calling Simon, it’s Harry who updates their mentor.

“Louis’ doing great, actually. I know we’ve not got much planned in the next few months, but Matthew and his team reckon we’ll be okay to be on the road as soon as we feel ready.”

Louis blinks, slow from the long day, and tries to figure out who Matthew is, until he realises that somehow, Harry is on a first name basis with all the clinic staff.

“Well, Louis, I’m sure you’re getting pumped now?” Simon is asking and Louis nods.

“Ha, it’s a little all over the place right now,” admits Louis and Niall snorts.

“Okay, a lot, but Liam’s always here to lend a hand.”

It’s true, for all three of the other boys. Zayn’s willing to put up his hand for any clothing runs now, and although Niall’s been making a few impromptu trips to Ireland since they’ve got the time on their hands, he’s also never been out of reach to Harry or Louis.

Liam is a whole other can of worms, with him and Danielle regularly taking the boys out, if only to stop them from being too engrossed in each other. It’s good to be close to another couple, Louis thinks at times, because even if Harry and he aren’t the most conventional of relationships, there’s still something there, that intangible feeling.

It’s Liam who really acknowledges that Louis is flagging and wraps up their phone call with Simon. Harry wraps his arm around Louis’ shoulders as the others pack up and leads him to the front door of Zayn’s flat.

“I think we’ll be off then, if it’s alright with you lot.”

There are murmurs of assent from the rest of the band and Niall gives them a particularly enthusiastic goodbye as Louis trips his way out the door. Harry laughs a little and steadies Louis.

“You’re alright, yeah, Lou?” he asks and Louis nods.

“’M just really tired.”

Harry makes a noise of agreement and sets on getting to their flat in one piece.

Entering through the front door and steering Louis to his wardrobe to go and get changed, Harry pops into the kitchen to fetch them both some water, before heading back to Louis and brushing his teeth in their shared en suite.

It’s one more thing that they haven’t mentioned to the others yet, but when Harry settles into bed next to Louis, brings his glass from the bathroom and places it down on the bedside table that they’ve added on Harry’s side, he feels like it’s their own little secret. The second room, what used to be Harry’s, has been converted into a nursery for the baby and Louis has shoved half of his belongings into boxes and out to storage to make room for Harry.

As he curls up behind Louis, arms around his torso and holding him close, Harry feels like there’s no room in his heart for moments outside _this._

-

The lead-up to the 22nd of June ends up being something like this.

Louis alternates between moments of incredible calm and absolute panic, the latter only lessening when both Harry and Danielle have him go through the breathing lessons he learnt in the _one_ birthing class he attended.

Liam has packed, unpacked and checked, and repacked Louis bag for the hospital stay, but Harry is left to his own devices. This, of course, means that Zayn and Niall pop over to “lend a hand” and end up cooing over their discovery of the nursery and shared bedroom.

Harry stresses out and bakes up a storm to cope, calling up both his and Louis’ mum to check that they’ve not missed anything in their long planning time.

(There’s maybe an incident when Harry realises that this baby, though owning enough clothing for the next three years of life, will not have nappies unless they do something soon. Three games of scissors-paper-rock later, and Niall is sent off to the shops to stock up.

Liam and Zayn can’t stop laughing, so much so that Louis is woken from his nap.)

Dr Rogers calls directly on the Wednesday to check that they’re all set for 10:00AM on the Saturday and Louis makes an agreeable sound.

“I just. It doesn’t feel like nine months yet,” he says and Harry snorts.

“It does to me.”

“Hush, Harry,” Louis replies and Dr Rogers coughs over the phone. “I just. I feel too calm.”

“It’s only natural, your body preparing for one of the biggest tasks it will undertake. Or that it is expecting to. Luckily, we’ll be helping along with the surgery.”

Louis nods until he realises that Dr Rogers can’t actually see him.

“Thanks for that, Doc,” Louis says.

“It’s my pleasure, Louis. I’ll see you on Saturday,” and it’s kind and serves to remind Louis that, yeah, this will happen.

-

When Saturday dawns, though, Louis is quick to down his toast and juice, leg jittering under the table until Harry stops it with a hand to Louis’ kneecap.

“It’ll be fine, Lou, really.”

“You’re not the one getting cut into, though,” Louis says, voice half in panic, but then Harry shifts his hand to Louis’ neck and it’s not _like_ he knows that Louis needs now, but that he _does know_.

Scratching his fingers through the hairs at the nape of Louis’ neck, Harry makes a soothing sound.

“But I’ll be there for you, today. Every step of the way. Even to the bathroom, afterwards, if you need to.”

Louis cracks a smile at that, but still lets his leg jump a little beneath the table. “I think they put a catheter in, though.”

“Well, I’ll be there for that as well, then, if I can.

Louis, I’m not going to leave unless I have to.”

Harry’s got his mouth close to Louis’ ear now and they could be whispering, for all intents and purposes, but really, he’s pressing soft kisses along the line of Louis’ jaw.

He gives up pretences, and ends up moving to kiss Louis full on the lips and Harry smiles into the kiss.

Pulling back again, he looks Louis in the eyes. “Okay?” he asks and it’s more reassurances at this point.

“Okay.”

-

Getting out of the shower is much, much harder than Louis expects it to be, but then it’s a challenge _without_ the impending child birth shenanigans in any case. He pretends that he still has things to do, having shampooed his hair twice and used an exfoliating body scrub, but Louis acknowledges that there’s not much more he can use to extend his shower.

Stepping out, he remembers not to moisturise or use any products, and follows the routine that he’s been on for the past few months – brushing his teeth, then taking his hormone treatments, and picking out something to get changed into.

Harry’s sat on the bed, already dressed and ready to go, bags perched next to him and Louis’ heart swells at the knowledge that they’re doing this together. The two of them.

Knowing that he’s only going to change into the hospital gown later, Louis picks out for comfort rather than style, and when Harry sees that both the sweatpants and jumper belong to him he stands up and wraps his arms around Louis’ frame.

Louis is surrounded by Harry, in scent and sight and feel and he kind of doesn’t want to let go.

But then Harry’s phone is buzzing a reminder that they need to get going and Louis steels himself for what’s ahead.

Picking up the smaller of the two bags, he follows Harry out to the front of the building, label car already idling by the door. Louis thinks back to the conversation he had with his mum last night, asking how she felt before he was born.

When the only word she could give him was “loved”, Louis felt at a loss, but as they make their way through to the hospital, filling in forms and being talked through pre-operative prep, Harry not dropping his hand once, Louis finally understands.

In the people around him, Louis thinks, there’s something there. This whole team, brought together to bring a new life into this world and Louis– he doesn’t regret this for a moment. This beautiful baby, born to him and to Harry, and the look in their eyes when she cries for the first time. This is to love and be loved and Harry and their baby girl.

-

It’s coming to the end of visiting hours when Liam and Danielle can finally make time to visit. Liam promptly freaks out at the fact that a live, human being came out of one of his best mates and starts to cry.

His girlfriend banishes him to the hallway on the premise that he’s scaring Little Baby Tomlinson.

Danielle smiles at the picture that they make, Louis cradling the baby so, so gently in his arms, like he can’t believe that this is real.

“You both look well,” she says, and Louis laughs shortly.

“I look like shit, actually. But she’s wonderful.” His eyes are still glued to his daughter, and he makes a cross-eyed face to see her reaction.

The baby yawns at that, little mouth widening into an “o” and eyes scrunching up even more.

“She is,” Danielle smiles at him. “How’re you all holding up then?”

“I’m tired as I thought I’d ever be, and the surgery scared the crap out of me, to be honest. But– ” Louis stops talking as his daughter seems to find his finger by instinct and grabs a hold of it, _tight_.

“But it’s worth it?” prompts Danielle.

“More than.”

He yawns then, tired out by the long day and of course, that’s when Harry chooses to pop his head around the door.

“Um, sorry to interrupt, but visiting hours are almost up, and Lou probably needs all the beauty sleep he can get.” He tosses a wink in Louis’ direction and if Louis had a free hand, he’d probably flip Harry the bird.

As it is, Dani just stands up, pats her hand on Louis’ forearm and leans in to give the baby a kiss on the forehead.

“I should actually get going, before Liam embarrasses himself out in the corridor any more. Send us some pictures though, okay?”

“Of course,” Louis says and he smiles up at Danielle. He’d never expected to have such a good friend that was outside the band in all of this, but Louis’d admit in a heartbeat that he couldn’t’ve done this without Danielle.

“Bye Lou, Harry. Goodbye little baby girl.”

And with that, Louis’ left with his thoughts and Harry.

The latter is perched onto the only chair in the room and Louis wonders how Harry managed to get there without him noticing.

“What’re you doing?” Louis asks and it’s sleep-slow, but Harry can deal. “Get over here.”

“I– ” Harry starts.

“Don’t you want to hold your daughter?”

And there are the words, because Harry gets up wordlessly, comes over to the bed and waits for Louis to re-shift himself before reaching his arms out for his daughter.

She’s tiny in Harry’s arms, small like her father in comparison to the larger frame of Harry but she looks like she belongs.

Harry starts turning slowly, turning and swaying and Louis feels like his heart is going a million kilometres a minute and has stopped, all at once.

“D’you – we probably should’ve talked about this before, but do you have any names picked out?”

Harry’s question is subdued, but the stillness of the room serves to make his voice more noticeable.

“Yeah, actually,” Louis says, his voice catching on the lump in his throat. Harry wanders back over to the bed and makes a motion to pass her back to Louis.

“Go on, then,” Harry’s saying and when Louis takes his daughter back into his arms, he looks into her eyes and smiles.

“I was thinking, Kaylah Tomlinson-Styles. Or Styles-Tomlinson. I can’t decide.”

Harry doesn’t say anything in response and when Louis looks up, it seems like he almost _can’t_. Instead, he moves closer still to Louis, presses a kiss onto his forehead and bends down to kiss their daughter too.

“I love it,” Harry says. “Kaylah Tomlinson-Styles.”

And it’s something for the three of them, that moment, and Louis. He loves this, more than anything he knows, because this is his family and this is love.

-

Harry’s pushing the wheelchair along as they exit the hospital early Tuesday morning, despite all of Louis’ protests that he can walk. Liam had come earlier that day to collect all their belongings, save the bare basics, so that it’d be all unpacked when they reached home.

He’s a bit worried at first, that there’ll be an awful lot of reporters outside, but instead of the media storm that he expected, Louis is greeted by the band van, Niall and Zayn pulling open the doors and the driver sticking out his head from the window to say hello.

When Harry puts his hand on Louis’ shoulder, he realises he’s been lost in thought again, and that Zayn is standing in front of Louis, keen to see how his niece is going. A photo and text was sent out en masse last night from Harry, with Niall, Zayn, Ed and Danielle, as well as their families, receiving a picture of Louis and the swaddle of cloth that is Kaylah.

As he pulls back her little beanie though, shows her face to Niall and Zayn and Harry once more, Louis feels like this was the point of it all. After months of changes of body and changes of heart and maybe changes like love, this is what it comes down to. His daughter smiles up at him, and Louis thinks that this is right.


End file.
